When Faith and Fear Collide
by 93BNMill
Summary: Had Hermione known that running from a monster would end with an unholy union, or that it would call the attention of all things Dark, she wouldn't had run away. Her fifth year could have been normal. Now the healers are calling her an 'obscurial' and she has a demonic familiar. Torn and uncertain how to move forward, she is unprepared for the tempest approaching. Not all is Dark.
1. Chapter 1

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

* * *

There was something indescribably satisfying about being able to vanish into a crowd of people and none of them being none the wiser to _what_ stalked amongst them. With the sun shining upon her head, heating the curly, untamed mess of brown-black hair, Hermione was content to know that she was able to walk through the streets of Muggle America without anyone knowing who she was. Bottle in hand, the caramel-skinned witch was content to observe the throngs of people as they went about their business.

She still had an hour before her parents met up with her, at any rate. Hermione checked the watch adorning her left wrist, the silver metal gleaming against tanned skin, before her gaze rose to the streets once again. What did a teenager in America do with an hour of freedom, anyway? Her brows furrowed as the thought glided across the surface of her thoughts, plump lips pressing into a thin line as she stood.

There were several stores in the surrounding area. Grandview was open and inviting in all that it seemed to offer, a town filled with history that called to her from museums and old, multi-floored libraries. Hermione wondered what it would have been like to grow up here, in the States in this tranquil town, instead of London, England. Would she have grown up with more friends, happy in her differences instead of shunned by the children who went to primary school with her?

Did American even _have_ a Wizarding School for magical children?

She circled the monument resting in the center of the shopping district, a tribute to fallen soldiers and their families. Hermione shielded her eyes as she peered up at it, taking in the picture of a group of soldiers clustered together, their struggle to survive, to return home to their families, forever carved into stone. The smile that spread across her face was an honest one.

Hermione let her feet carry her across the street, the few cars gliding down the lanes slowing, and then stopping, to let her by. Citizens on the sidewalks greeted with warm smiles, the women dressed in summer dresses and the men in jeans and nice shirts. A few children darted around tall, stone lampposts and between the legs of the adults, carefree and laughing.

 _'I think I would have liked growing up here,'_ Hermione browsed the windows of the shops she walked past, taking in the knickknacks and the salons and the small restaurants presented to her. She passed a used bookstore with a fond smile – these days, eBooks were all the rage. It was nice to see a bookstore, even a _used_ bookstore, up and running in such a small town. _'Yes, I would have liked it here. It's so calm. It's like the worries of the war brewing in England doesn't exist…_

 _'I wonder how Harry's doing,'_ Hermione's attention shifted to the raven-haired, green-eyed teen and his contagious determination come to the forefront of her mind. They had parted ways, her off to her family and he to the Dursleys. She could still recall the shadow in his gaze, the troubling turn of his lips. The TriWizard Tournament had left a mark on him, cut him deeply. _'I should find him a gift, something to cheer him up. Hopefully Ronald owled him over these last few weeks.'_

Knowing Ron, the redhead likely _hadn't_ sent their imprisoned, verdant-eyed friend a letter.

She'd have to remind him, then. Hermione paused in the window of one store, thoughts derailed as the antiques within gleamed and shimmered under the natural, summertime light. Her feet carried her past the window and through the door, warmth tingling in her veins as the bell let out a soft, gentle chime. Her presence announced, Hermione stepped into the warmth of the shop and let her gaze shift to cloth-covered tables decorated with curios and furniture from a time long ago.

There was a lot to look at, and Hermione let herself get swept away as she inspected everything she could get her hands on. So entranced by the history presented, the bushy-haired witch didn't notice the tall, robust woman approaching until she sat a stone egg on its pedestal and turned to find herself face-to-face with the woman.

Hermione yelped, backing into the table with a startling burst of speed. The woman steadied her before anything was knocked from its resting place, softly laughing as Hermione flushed from embarrassment. The woman grinned, voice light as she said, "It's not every day I see someone so engrossed with the past that they don't notice what's happening in the present. Are you staying in Grandview for a while or just passing through?"

"A bit of both, actually," Hermione smoothed out her skirt, the knee-long fabric swaying around her spandex-enclosed thighs. She brushed a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear, offering a white smile as she said, "You have a lovely store. I've always had a fondness for the old, forgotten things people tend to overlook. I'm Hermione, by the way."

"Delia," the woman made a gesture towards the side of the room where a table was set up with a cup of something steaming and what looked to be a plate of cookies. Hermione turned her attention back to Delia as the older woman said, "I was getting ready to have a quick snack and saw you. I bought too much, today. The store's owner isn't here. Want to help me clear the plate?"

"I'd like that," Hermione followed the shopkeeper across the room, easing herself into the upholstered chair with a well-deserved groaned. She slid her feet out of the flats she had worn, toes digging into the braided rug. "How long has the shop been here for, Delia?"

"A _long_ time," Delia was making another cup of what Hermione realized was tea, offering a gentle smile when the warming cup was passed into her waiting hands. "I started working here about ten years ago after the last shopkeeper died in an accident. I tend to run the shop myself. The boss, it's not often she finds herself here."

"Why not?"

"Lots of people need her help around here," Delia offered a smile, head cocking to the side as she added, "I think she'd like you, Hermione. That's why I offered the tea and cookies."

They spoke for a while more, touching, lightly, upon Hermione's home in England, her thoughts about getting into the government and helping those who have fewer rights than others. Delia's eyes had widened, there, and then she smiled so wide Hermione felt another flush of warmth spread across her cheeks. Hermione turned the conversation to their shared love of books and the history which lurked all around them.

"And he nearly got expelled for defending his mother?" Delia was saying as Hermione recounted an altered version of Harry inflating his aunt. While the events weren't the exact same, she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as she replied, "He almost got expelled. She was _always_ saying nasty things about his parents and how he was lucky his aunt took him in. When she insulted his mum, he lost his temper – one moment they were yelling at each other and the next she was outside, as good as flying away, while he threw whatever he could get his hands on at her."

Hermione sipped at her third cup of tea, enjoying the bitter taste as it rolled across her tongue. She nibbled at a lone cookie, mindful of the disapproval her parents had for all things sweet and sugary. She didn't want to get another lecture about cavities and rotting gums. Not when the day was going so well, not when the air was warm and the muggles friendly – Hermione didn't want this good day to end, not when she was feeling so welcomed among a community of strangers.

It was only keen senses attuned to anything magical that drew Hermione's attention from the conversation they were having to their surroundings. She sat up a bit straighter, brows furrowing as she felt the shift in the air. It was suddenly colder, her skin breaking out into a layer of pimpled skin. Her hair seemed to lift as if a current of energy surged through the room.

Across from her, Delia swore. "I swear, I have to get the electric company in here. If it's not bad enough _I_ keep having these issues, so is everyone else on this side of town!"

"Is this normal?"

Delia snorted. "No, honey, it's not. This kicked up about…three months ago. Power shutting off, cold spots, restless sleepers. Some of the younger folk are saying we have a ghost in town."

Hermione knew it was a possibility, but no ghost she had ever encountered made her skin crawl and her stomach churn with unease. Whatever entity that had decided to shake itself off and wake up was a force of _darkness_ , the air as heavy and sickening as a Dementor's presence. A quick look at her watch told Hermione she was late _–_ at least three hours had passed, and her parents were likely upset that _she_ was the one who was keeping _them_ waiting.

Hermione stood, thanking Delia for the conversation and the tea. The woman walked her to the door, smiling. Hermione bowed once before turning and running towards the square, her gaze on the distant figures of her parents waiting, feet tapping impatiently on the ground, at the base of the memorial. As she closed the distance, Hermione slowed as she noticed the shadow and how the darkness in the air was thicker and intent upon her.

Her gaze slowly lifted, rising to the top of the statue, where something she had never seen, on TV or in a book, perched. Her backpack fell from her shoulder, hitting the ground as she stared up at this glowing, yellowed-eyed beast regarded her with a cruel, fanged grin. Her parents were looking a tad alarmed, their pale skin showing hints of a sunburn as they took a step away from the stone monument and reached for her.

The following explosions were what Hermione knew to be apparition, the telltale cracks of loud noise accompanied by suddenly-there witches and wizards dressed in black robes. She knew they were aurors, knew the way their wands were coming up were anything but friendly. She wasn't sure, however, if those wands were aimed at her, at her parents, or at the creature hysterically howling with laughter from where it was perched. She only knew that, as her parents yelled her name, the creature pushed from its perch and came at her with claws unsheathed.

The flare of red magic that sailed over her shoulder, smashing into this golemesque creature, forced her into action. Her wand fell into her hand, a ready protego flying past her lips. A shimmering wall of magic rose in front of her, catching the second attack seconds before it would have hit. The spells slipped through her lips, one after another, as she wedged herself between her parents and the creature and American aurors. When the creature slapped a wizard across the square and turned its gaze on her, Hermione's blood turned to ice.

 _'It's targeting me,'_ She eased to the left, watching as it followed her movement. It was unfazed by the multitude of spells slamming into it, as was common with many creatures. Normal spells held little sway over them. Hermione took another step, shield still a shimmering wall between them. _'I have to get it away from my parents. The aurors can get them to safety.'_

Hermione took a step backward, heart pounding as the creature slinked forward. When its jaws opened, saliva pooled around its fangs and splattered across the ground. Hermione watched, horrified, as the stones blackened and crumbled away – acid, she knew. It had _acid saliva._

With a final exhale, Hermione cast a blasting charm and, as it dunked its head to bear the force of the attack, the bushy-haired teenager turned and fled. Behind her, her parents screamed her names as aurors shouted for her to come back. Then she heard the beast roar, the sound drowning out all other noise before she felt the ground tremble and groan. It shuddered, cracking, underneath her feet.

She knew, then, that it was in hot pursuit.

The beast was the hunter…

And she the prey.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

For those who are pulling at their hair and screaming, take a moment to breathe. Relax your muscles, calm your turbulent mind. There's quite a bit to say about the story which you have just read. Or the first chapter of a story you just read. Before all of you start sending me reviews stating, 'Continue Blood of the Serpent!', let me get a few words out. These are important and I think they _have_ to be said.

First: _Don't send me reviews telling me to update or continue another story in this story!_ I can't even begin to say how much that irritates me. This story isn't BOTS, nor any of the _other_ stories I have on here. It is _'When Faith and Fear Collide,'_ a different sort of story I never thought I would try and write. For those who know me well enough, my preferred "pairing" is readily obvious. Yet this story came from nowhere, demanding my momentary attention, and its call was one I could not ignore.

Second: Hermione is going to be _a bit_ OOC. This is intentional _because_ of the fact that I have an entirely different take on how I want her to be in this story and how she will evolve. I was never a fan of the entire 'know-it-all-girl-with-a-book-in-her-hands' who just happens to _suddenly_ befriend Harry and Ron _because of the fact she has to save their asses in almost EVERY book!_ The Golden Trio would be 'Golden and Dead' if not for her and her intelligence. She's also going to look a bit differently because of the fact her _origins_ are different in this story - so for those who are going to "Hate" on me for changing her skin tone...just stop while you're in the lead. The changes I make are intentional and for a good reason, all which will be explained _later_ in the story.

Third: There's going to be a few people who think Tom/Hermione/Voldemort could _never_ happen; in canon, that's very true (though, at the same time, pairing him with Harry Potter _{who he's distantly related to}_ is about as hard to swallow for others) but, at the same time, Tom Riddle/Voldemort wasn't given much of a chance in the books to shine as anything other than a snake-faced, megalomaniac, psychopathic, bigoted, _insane,_ hypocritial asshat who looked like a love child between a snake and a corpse. Just throwing that out there. It's the truth and _we all know it!_ I still love Tom Riddle/Voldemort, though, because his unspoken story holds a great deal of story that tugs at my heartstrings.

For all of you who read _all_ of the above, I congratulate you. Not many will read through an author's note unless they asked a question earlier in a review and are looking to see if I answered their question - and, more often than not, when I _do_ answer those questions...some people aren't happy. All of the above is stated because I _know_ there's going to be quite a stir about what I'm going to do and the changes I intend to make. I can't bring myself to care beyond what I just said above. It's too bothersome.

On a personal level, I think Hermione and Tom/Voldemort could bond if they were given the opportunity. And that's what I intend to do, though it's not going to be an instant, sudden, 'we can't look at anyone and we're ripping each other's clothes off and getting funky against a wall/floor/hard surface because we can' sort of thing. I find that sort of thing to be unbelievable and repulsive (because that sounds like something that would happen when someone was under the influence of a love potion and a compulsion charm by a sadistic asshole who wants to blackmail _them both)_ and I tend to leave those sort of things out.

Now that everything is done and said, I'll leave this extremely long, _**Author's Rant** _with one last comment:

I love to know what you all think _about the story in question_. So, with that said: _Favorite, Follow, and Review!_


	2. Chapter 2

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

* * *

A shrill scream tore through the forest, inhuman in its strength and power. Hermione's blood ran cold at the sound of it, her body trembling as she clutched her side with a battered, bruising arm. Blood seeped between her fingers, dripping to the muddy, forested floor. Bloody mud. The irony of the picture wasn't lost on her, nor were the sneering voices of her classmates absent from her thoughts. Malfoy had a rather nasty habit of tossing that slur at her.

She would have liked to have his company, in this dark forest. His snide remarks would make her blood boil, yet they would be a welcome relief compared to the sheer terror coursing through her at this very moment. Even Parkinson would have been a welcome sight in this place. Perhaps the black-haired girl would cut these monsters apart with her words, make them bleed like they made Hermione bleed and cry.

Neither of the Slytherins was there. No one was – not the aurors, not her parents, not even the kind and warm Delia with her tea and cookies. Hermione wanted to cry. Instead she limped forward, her body hunched and her shoulders curled close to her head. She dragged one of her legs, bare skin muddy, torn and bloody.

She bit back the whimpers threatening to climb out of her throat.

In the distance, that inhuman, blood-chilling screech came once again. Two more answered it.

Where were the aurors? They would come for her after making sure her parents were okay – wouldn't they? They wouldn't leave her to her own devices because she wasn't an American, would they? Hermione's mind turned and twisted, her thoughts leaping from one dark thought to another as she slumped against a tree. Eyes half-closed, the bushy-haired teen dragged a deep, uneven breath through her nose.

She held it for a count of ten before releasing it, slow and steady. _'Calm down. The aurors will be coming after me. They're protectors of the innocent, enforcers of the law. I have to hold out until they catch up. I must_ survive _until they catch up…'_

Hermione shook her head, shuddering as another inhuman cry split the silence of the steadily darkening forest. That beast, it was nearby. The cries of these creatures, they were closer than before. Pushing away from the tree, the teenager knew she had to keep moving.

 _'I can't go back towards Grandview,'_ Hermione limped her way between the trees, keeping close to the sturdy, wooden entities as her mind whirled and twisted over the events that had happened over the last few days. Hermione drew in another calming breath, telling herself, once again, that the aurors _were_ coming. This was a large forest, that's all. _'When I try to make my way to the town, they herd me away from it. They're intelligent. But how intelligent?'_

She didn't know what these large, skull-faced creatures were. They weren't dead horses with wings, that she knew. She hadn't seen anyone die, before. These things, they stood on two legs. Bipedal. Long limbs, sharp claws. She knew they were either carnivores or omnivores, though she was leaning towards carnivores. They had fangs. Their eyes were set towards the front of their elongated skulls, their eyes nothing more than floating, crimson points in black sockets.

 _'They're well balanced, too,'_ Hermione recalled the tail that had slashed open her side, the spikes protruding from the long limb a memory of pain and fire. Pressing harder against the still-bleeding gash, the witch contemplated the possibility of being poisoned. _'They communicate. They let out those sounds, and the others answer. They hunt in a pack.'_

As she leaned against another tree, she grinned. _'They also have a good sense of smell.'_

Peering down at her battered body, Hermione eyed the mud smeared across her skin and clothing with a sense of unwilling acquiescence. There was mud in places it shouldn't be, though she knew it was for the best. While she could hear the creatures, a day, maybe a day and a half, had passed since she had to throw herself out of the way of too-sharp claws for a long while.

The mud, she hoped, was blocking her scent. _'Either that or they're playing with me.'_

That was another possibility, one Hermione knew she had to consider with care. If these creatures were as intelligent as she _thought_ they were, then they would suspect she would use the mud to hide her scent. If they could detect heat signatures, like most snakes could, the mud itself might also impair their ability to see her. Her brow furrowed as she eased herself down a hill, her mind shifting to their _other_ senses – hearing, touch, and taste. How could she combat those?

In that moment, Hermione's gaze dropped to her wand. She could use a spell to muffle any sound she made, but she would have to _speak_ the words. If any of those creatures were near, they might hear her. Maybe they already knew. Perhaps they could sense vibrations in the air or in the ground, like bats and, once again, snakes.

 _'It's no wonder Slytherin favors snakes. They are cunning creatures,'_ Hermione shuddered, her body tingling as a cold wind howled through the trees. The forest was silent. She dropped to the ground, pressing herself as close to the base of a tree as she could as her gaze darted from one shaded, forested area to the next. _'They're near. How many? Do they know where I'm at?'_

She listened for any sound of these creatures, for the soft whisper of their tails disturbing the brush and grass. Hermione's eyes were half-closed as she listened for the click of talons on stone, for the way wood would crack and pop as these monsters' impressive weight settled upon fragile limbs. It was silence she heard, deep and oppressive. Her heart hammered in her chest, the sound of pure, muted terror ringing in her ears.

Something wet splattered over her shoulder, gliding down her chest and between her breasts. Her entire body froze. Hermione stared straight ahead, frozen and waves of repulsed shudders breaking through her body as she slowly reached up and pressed her hand to the white, thick, sticky substance coating her shoulder and chest. Another _puddle_ splattered across her leg and the ground around it, easily confining her throbbing limb to the ground even as she tugged at it.

Mud slid off her skin, leaning only dark skin in its wake. Above, a low, rumbling growl echoed.

Something sharp grazed her cheek and neck, large spikes grazing the underside of her eye as a large, talon-laden paw curled over her other shoulder. This one, monstrous hand was easily as large as her torso, the blade-like claw gliding between her arm and side as another finger crossed over her stomach. Hermione's eyes clenched shut, shivering and eyes moist. The creature brushed its head over the top of hers, something thick and wet roughly wetting her cheek.

 _'It's tasting me,'_ Hermione refused to flinch as the rough, catlike tongue dragged across her skin and lapped up the blood oozing from shallow scrapes. With one hand caged under its heavy paw, her other arm limp at her side, she knew she was a goner. There was no escape. _'I hope I taste as revolting as you smell. I hope I give you indigestion.'_

When fangs scraped across the side of her shoulder and neck, Hermione fisted her hand against her chest. As pressure built on her skin, tender flesh breaking, another screech tore through the air and then a massive force slammed into her and her to-be murderer. The tree she leaned splintered as suddenly as the monster ready to eat her was thrown across the clearing.

Wood shattered above her, spraying across the clearing as another tailed, bipedal monster snarled and snapped at the smaller one. Hermione, thrown onto her stomach, pressed herself up until she rested on hand and knees. She stared at the snarling creatures, eyes wide as they reared up onto their hind legs and locked arms in a power-struggle of snarling, drooling, hunger-heavy rage.

A third entered the fray, slamming into the other two with a howl of its own.

 _'Now I know why the aurors tried to call me back,'_ Hermione didn't dare move, too afraid to draw their attention as a fourth, and then a fifth, bipedal creature entered the fight. One nearly stepped on her, straddling her back as it roared at the others. Hermione almost screamed in shocked, her body curling into itself as a barbed tailed impaled the earth in front of her face. _'How many of these things are in this forest!'_

Hermione moved the moment the creatures were tangled together, five thrashing bodies wrapped together in a struggle Hermione never wanted to witness. She crawled towards one of the trees, fighting through the pain shooting through her leg whenever she put pressure on it. One hand now pressing on the gash cutting through her side, Hermione forced herself to her feet and then forced herself into a run. She wasn't going to stay there and _wait to be eaten alive._

Throughout the once-silent forest, Hermione heard roaring creatures and explosion-like collusions. Behind her, a rage-filled screech tore through the silence. Turning, she saw five skeletal heads all aimed in her direction, floating, red-orbed eyes like hellfire in black sockets. Hermione screamed, then, knowing that none of these creatures liked the thought of the snack they were fighting over was _running away._ She turned and ran, pain forgotten as adrenaline pumped through her veins.

She heard them push off the ground, heard the wind whistling as they cut through the air with deadly intent. Hermione wasn't looking where she was going, the forest a blur of color and black around the edges as panic-fueled her flight. Behind her, five screeches cut through the blood roaring in her ears and then the ground dropped.

A clawed hand cut through her back as Hermione pitched forward, the forested floor dropping into a massive descent of thorn-laden bushes and trees. She wasn't sure how long she fell, only that each meeting with the hard earth was as brutal, and unforgiving, as the last. Every time she slammed into a bush, thorns bit at her flesh and tore her clothing. Behind her, she heard the distant cries of five creatures that had not pursued her.

Had she been in the right mind, she would have likened the sounds they made to a creature trying to coax a smaller, weaker animal away from certain danger. Instead, she laid, limp, at the base of a hill where impossibly dark woods lurked just beyond. The ground was covered in thin, brown grass and the vines that hung from the trees were white and lifeless.

The air was cold, down here. As Hermione sat up, she turned and saw the creatures at the top of the drop-off. Their gazes were focused on her. Their long, deadly tails were gone from sight. The way they watched her was like a dog afraid of something, wanting to come closer but too frightened to take that final step. Dragging herself to her feet, Hermione turned.

Burnt-orange orbs peered through the darkness, weary and tired. Hermione stared, not quite sure what to make of the two, floating spheres as she took the first step forward. The ground beneath her was wet; looking down, Hermione was surprised to see the earth covered in a black, tar-like substance that clung to her as she trudged through it.

As she neared the burning, orange spheres, Hermione found herself nearing something that towered over her own small body. It was lumpy looking, curved. Her inquisitive mind drove her further, some small part of her realizing that, _whatever this thing was,_ this thing was the only thing keeping her from becoming a monster's snack. As the shadows clung and danced, Hermione slowed as the thing before her gained more definition.

A large, reptilian, _skeletal_ head rested on the ground – it's eyes were level with her face, its gaze dull and tired. The lumped, curved formation was its body and tail as it laid on the ground, its tail curled close to its body. Large, deadly claws flexed against the earth as long, strong arms trembled and twitched beneath a massive body. When its jaws parted, a black tongue rolled out of the otherwise _white_ body of this creature.

 _'It's scenting the air,'_ Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to stay, anymore. _'Can't it see me?'_

When it shifted, she got an answer. It's side, like hers, was torn and covered in a thick, black, tar-like substance. She saw specks of white bone through the mangled flesh. Tired, Hermione took the last steps until she stood before this creature and its weary, tired gaze. It watched her, one hand hesitantly reaching for the long expanse of bone that stretched between its snout and eyes.

When it pressed its face into her hand, Hermione's shoulders softened.

"They left you here to die, didn't they?" Hermione stroked its snout without a care, legs trembling and body heavy. Tangled, clumpy hair fell around her face as she stepped closer and leaned her weight against the middle of its face. "We're in the same boat, then. We're both in a pit, in the darkness, and we're going to die before anyone can save us. How cruel is that?"

Legs giving out, Hermione's weight settled between this creature's eyes.

"I don't want to die," Hermione rested her cheek on the warm bone, soaking in the heat of this dying creature as its tail curled around her ankles. She was sliding, legs no longer willing to hold her weight. Slumping to the ground, Hermione, resting on her side, could only see the white bones of a creature she never read about. She felt something long and cured press against her palm, and, when she looked, saw the tip of its tail. The deadly point was aimed away from her body. "I don't want to die. Harry needs someone to keep him safe, someone who can reason…"

In the distance, a hundred, screaming voices rose. Hermione could hear the creatures, could see the distant hill and the bushes and trees shuddering as a cascade of monsters tore down the slope. A massive, large paw curled around her, drawing her into the shadows of its body as burnt-orange eyes peered down at her. A fanged mouth with a black tongue opened over her.

Hermione reached upward, knowing, somehow, that dying by _this_ creature would not be painful. It wouldn't prolong her death just to hear her scream or watch her blood flow from dying flesh. She saw one of the creatures hurtling through the air, body drastically darker than the one looming over her. She could feel its bloodlust, feel its hunger, as the large, white creature surrounding her held her gaze. When her hand caressed its mouth, the tip of the tongue curled around her fingers.

Pain seared through her at the contact as something dark, _something insidious,_ bored into her.

As she screamed, a sea of black washed over them.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Cliffhanger! This chapter ends with a _cliffhanger;_ I'm just pure evil, aren't I? That can't be helped. I'm so happy with all the positive reviews I got from the last chapter that I couldn't wait to jump back into this. The ending scene was one I had in my head for a _long_ while, but I wasn't sure how to work my way to it. So you get this entirely long, drawn-out chapter. I'm not sure how I feel. I was tempted to delete it and rewrite it, try to do something else with it. However, I think this one works because the creatures in question are highlighted a bit. They're defined a bit more, though _what_ they are is still an unknown.

Hermione is a smart girl, too. Frankly, if I knew I had a choice to die painlessly over dying _painfully -_ I'd choose painless. Though I don't think I'd like that kind of end that Hermione seems to have. Talk about a terrifying ending. She's wrapped in a sphere of light while a sea of darkness comes crashing down upon her. How will she get her way out of this predicament? Only the next chapter will tell us!

I'm hoping you all like this chapter as much as you liked the last one. I'm hoping it still intrigues you enough to keep on reading. I'm hoping I can get another chapter done for tomorrow, as I know what happens next and I'm eager to write it. Though I think I'm gonna go and head to work, first. I'm rather certain I almost had a heart attack writing this - I'm not use to writing Hermione and trying to write someone who is more logical instead of emotional is...difficult.

So, with that said: _Favorite, Follow, and Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

* * *

Time was nothing more than a haze of unclear moments, one event rushing into the next.

Hermione struggled under the onslaught of too-intense sensations washing over her skin and the underlining terror burning through her. Strong hands held her down on a cold surface as she screamed and clawed, magic howling around her. One person flew across the room, smashing into a wall with enough force that blood spewed out of an open mouth. Hermione was fixated on the bright, crimson color curving through the open air.

Then the onslaught was back, panic was clawing at her chest. Someone was grabbing onto her from behind as she kicked and screamed, the table underneath her splintering and hurtled across the room. When it hit the wall, it broke on contact. Her arm was burning, the skin blistering as she clawed at her own chest and neck.

"Get the doctor in here!" Someone was trying to pry her arms away from her chest, but Hermione could only focus on the dark, semi-there form that seemed to be drifting around the room. Burnt-orange spheres regarded her dispassionately, a long tail curling through the air behind the hulking body of an unmasked monster. Hermione's magic reacted, an arc of raw power launching through the air at the creature. The wall behind it exploded, the hallway beyond exposed. _"Get the doctor!"_

"Hermione, _Hermione!"_ Warm, gentle hands grabbed each side of her face and then Hermione was staring into the pale, ashen face of her mother. Her father, light brown hair windswept, was pushing through the doctors trying to hold him back. Then he was at her side, arms wrapping around her as her knees gave out. His words were a song of hope in her ears, "You're okay, baby girl. Daddy's here. You have to calm down. Breathe with me, 'Mione. Breathe with me."

Hermione nuzzled against her father's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. When she inhaled next, it was in time with his breath and she exhaled with him. Her mom's hand was carding through her unruly hair, calloused fingers pulling through the knots in her hair. When one of the doctors tried to come closer, Hermione clung to her father as her magic surged.

"You need to back off, sir," Hermione's father's voice was hard and edged with steel, cold and unyielding. She was pressed into her mother's arm when the doctor said something, the words a distant thing as her father snarled, "I may not be her biological father, but I raised her from the moment she was born. If you come any closer, God fucking save your sorry asses! Now get out!"

Once the room was empty save for the three Grangers and the creature only one of them could see, Hermione let her mother lower them both to the floor. She buried her face against her mother's chest, her arm clutched to her chest, as broken cries escaped bruised, cut lips. Once again, she found herself drawn into an embrace. Wedged between her parents, Hermione shuddered.

"I want to go home, mommy," Hermione wrapped an arm around her mother's neck, feeling like a small child being lifted into her parents' arms. She let her father cradle her in his arms, her knees tucked close to her chest and arms folded over her middle. "I want to go home..."

"We're going, 'Mione," Her mother was leading them out, one of the doctors trying to get in the way. She heard hushed, rough conversation. She felt her father drawing himself to his full height, imposing with his dark beard and sun-tanned skin and corded, imposing muscles. Ahead of her, she heard her mother snap, "My daughter has been attacked, hurt, and _your_ lot wants to keep her here for testing for unstable magic? She's fifteen years old! Her magic's gone haywire? She's traumatized! Now move before I'm – Headmaster Dumbledore, what are you doing here?"

"Healer Truman notified me of what happened. Is she alright?" Hermione turned when she heard the soft, kindly voice of her Headmaster. Curly hair cascading over her shoulder, Hermione caught her Headmaster's gaze and he smiled a soft, kind smile. When his hand brushed a strand of hair from her face, his eyes locked on hers, Dumbledore said, "Miss Granger, are you ready to return to England? I have the floo ready for you and your parents."

Nothing else had to be said. When Dumbledore turned, the doctors were quick to move out of his way. With her tucked in her father's arms, her mother walking beside them, no one dared get in the way. Several doctors trailed after them, and the one Hermione assumed was this Doctor Truman stopped them in the foyer, fireplace ready, as he said, "Albus, she needs further examination. Her magic, it's not responding normally. She's showing signs of being an obscurial."

"Miss Granger is many things, but an obscurial she is not," Hermione blinked when she noted the hard, iron edge of her headmaster's voice. The gentle, kind, grandfatherly man was gone. In his place was an older man, hardened by some dark history, that said, "I know an obscurial when I see it, Truman. You know that better than most. Now, if you will, the Grangers and I have to be off."

The doctor moved out of the way and, as they were prepped to leave, Hermione felt something dark stir within her. Something cold and unfriendly, something that was hungry. As her eyes began to droop, she felt it claw at her mind. Then she was pulled inward, sinking into oblivion as a sea of black hurtled towards her as a vague, distant memory of pain and terror.

She was drifting, caught in a sea of darkness. Something pale and old circled around her, pressing close against her soul and magic and mind. Hermione couldn't bring her vast mindscape to the forefront, knew that the books held within were open and _something_ was drifting through the pages she had written over the course of her short life.

 _'What happened to me?'_ Hermione was drawing closer to the middle ground where an aware, unconscious mind lurked. This place she lingered when sleeping, countless pages of information ready to be stored away for further perusal. She felt the black, void-like ground gaining substance under her feet as her physical body was whisked away to safety. Her mental state found ground in this place, relief flooding her as towering shelf-walls began to rise from the darkness. Then her blood chilled, a sense of unease curling within her mind. _'What happened to me?'_

The once pristine, regal library was a ruin. Hermione stood in it, magic coating every surface of this internal, holy ground. Strong walls were broken, a wasteland of barren ground surrounding the vast building she stood in. Massive shelves were covered in vines and ivy, the once-whole floor broken apart by thick patches of tall, dying grass. Even the domed window far above her head was broken, glass littering the ground a hundred feet in front of her.

Then she sensed it, an old force that wasn't her yet was now a _part_ of her. Hermione, standing now in the ring of broken glass with the skylight open above her, turned in a full circle. Her gaze jumped from one shadowed corner to the next, her gaze leaping from one stack of shelves to the next. A pale shadow weaved just beyond her sight, easily looping behind her with every frantic turn.

"Show yourself!" Her voice echoed through the ruined library, the only sound in the desolate building. A shudder cut through her body, a sense of unease curling when the monster did not respond. It stayed out of sight, lurking and watching and observing. Hermione's voice cracked, her arms curling around her middle as she screamed, _"Show yourself, damnit!"_

A book hurled through the air, landing on the desk next to her. It was open, pages misty with a memory that had just transpired. Hermione stumbled back, eyes wide as the vapor-like memory rose from the book and whirled through the air over the table. It formed quickly, the scene playing out with startling clarity.

.

 _Tired, Hermione took the last steps until she stood before this creature and its weary, tired gaze. It watched her as she hesitantly reached for the long expanse of bone that stretched between its snout and eyes. When it pressed its face into her hand, Hermione's shoulders softened._

 _"They left you here to die, didn't they?"_

 _Hermione stroked its snout without a care, legs trembling and body heavy. Tangled, clumpy hair fell around her face as she stepped closer and leaned her weight against the middle of its face. A single tear glided down her face as she whispered, "We're in the same boat, then. We're both in a pit, in the darkness, and we're going to die before anyone can save us. How cruel is that?"_

 _Legs giving out, Hermione's weight settled between this creature's eyes._

 **.**

The book rested there, the image of her and the creature still in the air. Hermione stared, jaw slack, as she processed what just happened. She let her fingers skin the surface of the memory, watching as it broke apart and reformed around her fingers. This creature, it had access to her memories. It had answered, in a way, without being direct. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"What have you done to me?"

The books pages began flipping, rapidly, but then it slammed shut until _another_ book slammed onto the table. The pages were rapidly flipping, but no memory was coming forth. She sensed a wave of frustration that wasn't hers on the edge of her thoughts. Then the first book opened again, the book on top of it cast to the floor as the scene from before resumed.

.

 _"I don't want to die," Hermione rested her cheek on the warm bone, soaking in the heat of this dying creature as its tail curled around her ankles. She slid to the ground, legs no longer willing to hold her weight. Hermione, resting on her side, could only see the white bones of a creature she never read about. She felt something long and cured press against her palm, and, when she looked, saw the tip of its tail. The deadly point was aimed away from her body. "I don't want to die. Harry needs someone to keep him safe, someone who can reason…"_

 _A massive, large paw curled around her, drawing her into the shadows of its body as burnt-orange eyes peered down at her. A fanged mouth with a black tongue opened over her. Hermione reached upward, knowing, somehow, that dying by this creature would not be painful. It wouldn't prolong her death just to hear her scream or watch her blood flow from dying flesh._

 _When her hand caressed its mouth, the tip of the tongue curled around her fingers._

 _Pain seared through her at the contact as something dark, something insidious, bored into her._

.

The image kept replaying, over and over and over, until Hermione couldn't look at it. She turned away, eyes burning. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, closed the tired lids and tried to think. This was a response, she _knew_ that. She had asked a question and this was its answer.

 _'What did you do to me?'_ The question circled in her head. The image of the creature's tongue wrapping around her fingers, the feel of bone against her skin, the heat that had flared as something hot and dangerous slammed into her – that was the answer, but one that wasn't clear. She knew what had _happened,_ but she didn't know what the result was. She didn't understand why this creature was here with her, _in her mind,_ when she was alive. "Why?"

When she turned, she saw a broken image of herself telling the creature she didn't want to die.

"I didn't want to die," Hermione whispered, mind shifting back to the former question.

Her lips parted. "What you did was a response to me _not wanting to die…"_

While the creature itself didn't reveal itself, Hermione sensed its approval. She was right, then. It had saved her, somehow. Her brow furrowed. "Saving me changed me. You did something to me."

A dozen more books flew across the ruined chamber, each from different times of her childhood in Hogwarts and on various lessons she had sat in. Most of them were from Defense, a few were from History, and one was from Divination. She stared at the last one, eyeing the image of a younger Hermione staring into a teacup while her professor stared, wide-eyed, at whatever omen was foretelling her upcoming death.

Hermione looked away from that one, dismissing it as rubbish. Her attention shifted back to Defense, to where Lupin stood before the class and talked about something that had been mentioned in their history class. Hermione pulled those two books to the front of the desk, trying to figure out what message lurked there.

Her mind hurt from trying to process what was right in front of her. The further she pushed her mind to recall this information, the more her temple throbbed. And, as she reached for the memory, there was a shift. Her physical body shifted, a hand pushing at its shoulder. Hermione could hear her mother's voice echoing through her mindscape, beckoning her away from the world of dreams.

She didn't want to go. She tried to cling onto the threads of slumber, tried to grab at the information resting before her fingers, and cried out in frustration when something _magical_ hit her with enough force to jar her into her body. And then Hermione was sitting up, eyes wide and wild and a body thrown through the air and a lot of yelling.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" The bushy-haired teen turned in a fast circle, eyes landing on _Ron_ and then to see Sirius sliding down the wall behind him. Molly's wand was already out, furniture repairing itself with a word or two from the woman. Dumbledore stood off to the side, Professor Snape next to him, and both were staring at her as Ron caught her arm. "Hermione, what the hell was that? You threw Sirius across the room! How'd you do that? Are you okay?"

Hermione slowly looked at Ron. "Ron, kindly shut up. My head hurts."

His jaw clicked shut, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Sorry."

Her mom helped her to her feet and Hermione looked around herself to see that she was in a large living room, dark and dusty. The Weasleys were all there, save a few. Ginny was already wrapping her arms around her waist, head burying against her chest. Hermione awkwardly patted the youngest redhead on the shoulder, her gaze darting to Lupin as he said, "Glad to see you up and awake, Miss Granger. You had us worried."

"Why?"

"Because school starts in a couple days," Hermione didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken. She turned, anyway, eyes wide as she caught, and held, Harry Potter's tired, defeated gaze. He looked so thin and drawn out. She slowly blinked when he continued, "I thought you weren't going to wake up. Ever. You're mum and pops, they carried you in with the Headmaster a week ago. So much has happened, 'Mione. I'm just glad you're home."

She welcomed the Boy-Who-Lived into her arms, encaging both him and Ginny in her embrace as Sirius threw his arms around her from behind. Hermione's eyes watered, the waterworks threatening to explode. Ron joined their little group, red in the face as he hugged her, and Hermione drew back from them after a moment. She turned to Sirius, voice soft as she said, "Sorry about throwing you across the room, Padfoot. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Sirius ruffled her hair. "Just give me a warning next time, okay?"

Even as they all gathered, Hermione felt distant. Something dark curled within her veins, a pale shadows gliding down the hall at the farthest end of the room. Whatever had happened between the moment she didn't die and when she ended up in the hospital, between her time in her mindscape and her arrival in the Black House, she knew it wasn't good.

She was, however, determined to figure out the mystery.

Even if it killed her in the process.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Things are picking up. For those of you who know my writing, I do tend to draw things out before jumping into the actual story. In this, I don't want to draw out the beginning of the story for too long. So there's a major time-skip here (several weeks, if not longer) but don't be mad. A lot of what had happened will be uncovered, but not without one hell of a battle for Hermione.

Her and the creature's relationship is only starting, after all. And I have a lot of ground to cover between her and Harry and Ron's relationship. There's quite a few changes, some which are only just starting. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I hope to hear from all of you. So, until later, enjoy what I have for you and wait for what's coming. Any thoughts and ideas are welcome!

So, with that said: _Favorite, Follow, and Review!_


	4. Chapter 4

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

 _Harry was being expelled from Hogwarts._ The thought kept repeating in her head, the knowledge that her friend needed her – _and she wasn't there –_ shook Hermione in a way she was unable to swallow. He was being expelled. For _self-defense._ Hermione wanted to scream in frustration at the stupidity of Wizarding Law and Customs. How could they make a rule so _stupid?_

The moment she learned his trial was three days away, four days before school started, was enough of an incentive to cause the normally collected, bushy-haired student into a frenzy of research. She locked herself in the Black Library, told Molly _'I won't be helping you clean, so, please, try and refrain from bothering me,'_ vanished into the confines of the old well of knowledge, and began her search into Wizarding Law with a new interest. She'd been there for two days already.

Harry couldn't _not_ go to Hogwarts. The notion was absurd. She wouldn't let them expel him.

Book after book found its way on an old, polished ironwood table situated near the burning heart that was pressed cozily against the back wall. Hermione flitted from one book to the next, dictating notes to an enchanted quill she had received as a birthday present from Krum, and flipped through countless law books she had found. Page after page of information found its way into her brain, seeping through the tired haze and the rumbling hunger biting at her with renewed fervor.

Hermione simply didn't feel the need to indulge in primal urges.

"According to Stature 731, Section 42.5E, any underage student cannot conduct magic around a muggle who is unaware of the existence of magic…" Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully with the wand the American wizards had given her, her gaze focused on that one passage. While many Statures in Wizarding Law had been dismounted, many of the old laws were still held under the same title. They weren't updated, really. She turned her attention back to the passage as she read aloud, "In Accordance with the Treaty of Zai'Han, Year 308 EOM, the Stature of Secrecy was magically sworn to be upheld. Any wizard or witch who breaks this Stature will be tried, and punished, by officers upholding this noble duty."

Hermione frowned. She turned to another book, eyes narrowing as she pulled out a passage of interest. She read it, then reread it, before saying, "…the Trace is placed upon all wands of any student who is underage. Magic performed intentionally by a witch or wizard outside of authorized zones will be recorded and investigated in accordance to already established laws."

Her attention shifted to the list of facts she had quizzed Harry over before holing herself off in the library. The entire event was laid out in ink, ready for her to decipher. The case in question would be handled by the Department of Improper Use of Magic, which, as Hermione read on, didn't make sense. She turned back another book, disregarding the soft knocking coming from the library doors. She did look up, however, when the doors flew open and Sirius Black came stopping in.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. He met her gaze, voice hard as he said, "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," Hermione turned back to the books, hands folded behind her back as her magic curled within her veins. Behind Sirius was someone else, and Hermione paused as the wild, moon-rich magic pressed against hers. Remus Lupin, she realized. She turned to look at the two men, lips pressed into a tight line as she said, "Harry's trail is tomorrow. I don't have time to eat."

"You haven't slept since you got here," Remus tried to reason with her, his hands coming up in a gesture of peace when her gaze snapped back to him. When she didn't say anything, he continued in a soft tenor, "I understand your drive to make sure Harry's fine. Dumbledore will be at the trial tomorrow. You can't think clearly with so little sleep, Miss Granger."

"Why is a Trace placed on _all_ wands of underage witches and wizards?" Hermione held up one book, eyeing the passage with a narrowed gaze. She sensed Remus's magic coil, felt it shift and turn as Sirius's sharpened. She looked back at them as she said, "I found the law in the books. It states that _all_ wands belonging to witches and wizards have a Trace on them and that the use of magic outside of school is strictly forbidden."

Hermione began to pace across the open space, quiet as the two wizards took a seat in the armchairs resting beside the fireplace. Sirius sat with his foot over his knee, one hand tapping idly at the armrest as Hermione continued, "It goes on to say that it is _only_ magic done in a muggle-populated area that are tracked. If someone in the wizarding community performed magic, such as Ginny, they wouldn't get thrown into a trial with the threat of having their wand broken and their place in Hogwarts revoked.

"Harry, living with his cousin, who knows about magic, cast a spell to defend them from a dementor. Because he did magic in front of a cousin, he's going to be expelled?" Hermione shook her head, infuriated by the way the system was rigged. Why couldn't the Boy-Who-Lived, her _best friend,_ get a break? Why couldn't he go through the year without someone trying to kill him? Why couldn't someone _else_ have to deal with all that bullshit? Jaw grit, she pressed, on with a harsh laugh. "That goes against the law which states that performing magic in front of _unaware_ muggles is forbidden, not ones who already know. By law, Harry shouldn't be in trouble because it _was_ self-defense and the muggle in question is his cousin."

"You have several good points, Hermione," her gaze shifted to Sirius, happy to see the appreciation shining in his eyes. Remus nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face as Sirius continued, "I think this is something we should show Dumbledore. Do you have notes on the laws in question?"

"Of course," Hermione motioned toward the floating quill and paper. "Will it be enough?"

They assured her it would be enough. Remus continued as they made their way out of the library, a hand resting on her shoulder. "If there's anything missing, Dumbledore will know what to do. He's good at this sort of thing. Now, let's get you something to eat and a nap."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest. Her stomach rumbled before anything could be said, loud and drawn out. Her cheeks darkened as she combed a hand through her hair, laughing nervously as the older two grinned. Sirius slapped her in the back as he said, "Food it is!"

She found herself in a brightly lit kitchen, Molly bustling around with a happy smile. Ron and Harry both smiled when they saw her, Ginny yelling in excitement. Fred and George forced themselves down on either side of her, their arms winding around her shoulders as they laughed and joked and dodged dark glares from their mother. Across from her, Harry asked, "Did you figure it out, 'Mione?"

"I think I did, yes," Molly dropped a loaded plate in front of her, too many things on it. Hermione took a spoonful as she continued, "Sirius and Remus have my notes. They're going to give them to Dumbledore. You'll be in the clear, Harry."

"If you're sure, then I won't worry," Harry took a bit out of his own food as Hermione took her first bit. She chewed, face schooled as the grains squelched between her teeth and something _vile_ slid down her throat. She forced herself to swallow, shoveling another spoonful into her mouth as her stomach began to churn. She hardly noticed when the dour Potions Master entered the room, but she did hear Remus ask if she was alright. Hermione nodded, skin cold and clammy as her stomach rumbled as the second chewed mouthful of food landed in her gut. "Hermione?"

She pressed her hands to her mouth, eyes clenched shut as a soul-deep shudder worked its way through her body. Bile rose in her throat, coating the back of her mouth as she pushed herself away from the table. Her skin was paling around the knuckles, a sickly gray, and a hand steadied her at the elbow when her knees buckled. She turned, inhaling the scent of lavender and pine, hardly noting the black-clothed chest as she pushed past whoever grabbed her.

Hermione barely made it into the restroom, body heaving violently as she doubled over the toilet. Someone pulled her hair away from her face, a hand rubbing soothing circles against her back as a spoonful or two of food splattered the inside of the porcelain throne. She grabbed the sides, shuddering as she coughed and hacked until _iron_ smeared the white basin. She tasted it on the back of her tongue, on her teeth, and spat it out with a grimace.

She didn't protest when she was pulled back, not even when Professor Snape pressed his fingers against the side of her throat. A few of the others lingered in the doorway, silence smoothing over the group as her professor instructed her to open her mouth. Hermione did so without question, senses dulling as he tilted her head back so he could see down her throat. When he pressed at the base of her neck, she flinched as pain flared.

He dug through his cloak and pulled out a vial. Pulling the stopper out of it, he handed it to her as he said, "Drink this, Miss Granger."

She drank it down and fought not to throw it up. Her hand clamped over her lips as she curled into herself, barely noticing how her forehead found itself buried in her least favorite teacher's lap. She barely noticed the hand awkwardly rubbing circles between her shoulders. She rose when he guided her to her feet, body shuddering as she fought to keep down the potion bubbling in her gut.

When he eased her towards the stairs, Hermione shook her head.

"Can't," Hermione leaned against the wall, feeling violently ill. "Back hurts."

"You're back hurts?" When she nodded, Snape pressed agile fingers along her spine. Everything hurt. After a moment, she heard him say, "Black, carry her upstairs. I'm going to grab my case."

Hermione couldn't protest when Sirius lifted her off the ground. She sank into his embrace with a sense of relief, dearly missing her father. The way he held her close, cradled to his chest, reminded her of how her father would coo over her when she was sick. She blinked. She didn't know they were upstairs until he was laying her in the bed, Remus and Snape behind him. Both looked a tad uncomfortable, though Snape was quick to step forward.

He was laying out various potions as Remus gently rolled her shirt up, voice soft as he said, "We should have realized that eating such a heavy load of food would not sit well with your stomach. I think the ointments Snape has will help soothe your system."

Hermione let out a weak laugh. "Should have known, huh?"

She felt like a fool. She'd been unconscious for at least a week. Her mom had mentioned something about a liquid diet when she was unconscious in the hospital, that her stomach wouldn't be able to handle large helpings of solid food for a while yet. Hermione tapped her fingers along the soft quilt covering her borrowed bed, eyes closed when Professor Snape began spreading the ointment over her tender, rumbling midsection.

Harry stood in the doorway, hip leaning against the worn frame. Ron looked guilty, as if _he_ should have realized she wouldn't be able to keep the food down. His mother was frowning, gaze intent on Professor Snape's hands. Hermione wondered if the woman thought her teacher would try and do something, then. The thought alone caused the bushy-haired girl to snort with laughter, and then to cringe when her insides flared in a burst of pain.

Snape took it in stride, turning to grab another bottle that he sat on the bedside table. When he turned back to her, his tone was even. "In an hour, I'll be back to make sure it's working. If another layer needs to be applied, I will do so. In the meantime, I will see if I can find a recipe that you can stomach. A sick witch is never a good one."

Hermione thanked him as he left before her gaze shifted to Remus. "He's prepared for anything, isn't he?"

"Severus? He is, yes. He was like that when we were in school, too," Behind the werewolf, Harry seemed to perk up. Interest shined in killer green eyes. Even Ron, who generally wanted to know nothing of their Potions Master, stepped into the room as Remus continued, "Sirius and I, we have quite a history with him. James and Lily, too. Lily and Severus were friends when they were kids and James couldn't stand it. Mad with jealousy, he was."

"Snape was friends with my mum?" Harry stood there, wide-eyed. Hermione didn't blame him. It was almost as if their professor hated Harry on principal alone, not bothering to see past the image society had cast on him to see the boy who lurked beneath. When the green-eyed youth frowned, Hermione said, "Makes you think, doesn't it? What he knows?"

Harry nodded, slowly. "Yeah, it really does."

It didn't take long for the others to file out of the room, some of them lost in thought and others not entirely sure what to do with themselves. Hermione eased herself up against the headboard of her bed, hair waving around her as she leaned her head against the wall. Hard wall pressed against the back of her skull, a steady presence she knew wouldn't vanish without probable cause.

Her stomach tightened, bile coating the back of her throat. Hermione swallowed it.

The potion Professor Snape had her drink, it was working wonders. The unrest she had felt was calming, slowly. The jitters that had sneaked into her hands were fading, the oversensitive feeling of her clothing against her skin bleeding away. When she ran her hand along the quilted comforter, she was able to detect the subtle weave of every thread.

It was unusual, something that drew her mind to the minute details of the blanket. How long had it taken for that thing to be made, anyway? Did one of Sirius's relatives make it? Did his mom? Did Sirius have a sister, maybe, who knew how to knit or quilt or sew? Or maybe it was a friend from school, someone who knew the subtle art of thread and needle. It was a thought she entertained as she rested there, breathing slowly as not to disturb the electric hum under her skin.

She rested there, for a time, without thought. Professor Snape returned, a mug of meat-based broth in hand. She drank it, happy it didn't unsettle her stomach. Protein, he said, was needed for her body to recover. He checked the ointment, reapplied it, and then told her to get some rest. He even turned out the light on his way out of her room. She heard him promptly scold Harry and Ron, telling them both to return to bed and _'not cause any problems lest they wished to start the term in the negative.'_ She tried not to laugh, knowing she failed miserably.

Hermione was drifting off to sleep when she felt the shift in the air, felt the side of the bed pressed against the wall sinking as if something heavy stepped on it. Her body rolled into her, midsection curling around a hard, unyielding force as something rough, and wet, grazed the side of her neck. It was a sensation that had Hermione pulling away from the gentle call of sleep, her eyes fluttering open, irritation burning in them, as she eyed the pale expanse of transparent bone.

She would have screamed if she had a voice.

Instead, she jerked away and scrambled to the edge of the bed. She eyed the bone, and the wall behind it, without really looking at it. Was she tired, so tired, that she was seeing things? When that pale expanse of body shifted and swayed, Hermione realized it was a limb, a _long_ one, that she had seen once before. When a massive, reptilian skull came into her line of sight, her mouth dried.

She wouldn't have minded screaming, then. She suspected that was why she couldn't.

Burnt-orange eyes regarded her, burning with a strange intensity that left her breathless. Her mouth watered, the back of her throat tingling as her stomach growled. Hunger. Hermione frowned, then, because she _knew_ she wasn't hungry. She had just eaten; the mug was still on the bedside table. In a span of seconds, it dawned on her. It wasn't _her_ hunger she was picking up on, but the hunger of the creature in front of her.

Her lips parted, disbelief filling her. How the _hell_ was she supposed to _feed_ this thing? It barely fit in the room, its body curved and pressed against the walls as it tried to find a semi-comfortable way to rest. And Hermione knew it wasn't comfortable; she felt the walls pressing against her side, felt the ceiling biting into her back, as surely as she felt the soft quilt under her hands. She felt how the bed's sturdy frame bent under the curve of its claws. She could smell herself, a fragrance she knew as illness, parchment, inky, and something that was pure and glowing and raw.

When it's head dipped towards her, snout bumping her nose, she could only stare.

Then, when it spoke, Hermione wanted nothing more than to run away.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Two chapters, one day. I'm on a roll! This was actually going to be a part of the _last_ chapter, but I decided to break it up. A good thing, too. It's a tad longer than I thought it would be and I'm already working through the next chapter. Like I said, things are _changing_. Soon the gang will be going to Hogwarts, and then the fun will really begin. I have an idea of how I'm going to introduce Tom, and I'm gleeful about it. It's going to be _so much fun!_ I'm enjoying writing this. It's fresh and new for me, something I hadn't thought I'd get into with such gusto. For those who are sticking with me, I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

Trust me, it's just starting to get interesting. The first few chapters are a setup for what's going to happen. Keeping it interesting isn't easy, either. It's hard work, knocking out these many words in such a short span of time. Character-building is fun. I only hope the story is one all of you will stick to as it progresses. Some people lose interest if the _main plot_ isn't introduced within the first few chapters. If it isn't revealed. I'm not one to rush things, however. I like Slice-of-Life stories as much as I do horror, romance, and adventure. When they're able to combine together into a tale of passion, I'm on-board.

I hope all of you stay on the ship with me and see where we'll go. Any thoughts are welcome.

So, with that said: _Favorite, Follow, and Review!_


	5. Chapter 5

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

* * *

They stared at one another for a time, neither willing to move until the other yielded.

Hermione's mind whirled and danced, hazy from sleep but still perfectly functional. She stared at the creature before her, trying to determine if she had, indeed, _heard_ the beast speak to her. Sitting on the bed that was hers during her stay in Grimmauld Place, Hermione knew this entire situation was, theoretically, impossible. She was a muggleborn witch that had no ancient blood running through her veins. Headmaster Dumbledore had done all the tests to make sure, once he realized her parents had adopted her – magic such as hers, strong and quick to respond, wasn't common.

Being able to _hear_ this…being, all pale and see-through, was impossible. Yet it was happening.

When it pressed its face closer to her, jaws parting once again, Hermione heard its voice clearly within the confines of her mind. _'Feed me.'_

Hermione stared, enchanted by the sibilant tones curling around her senses. They were seductive, a perfect match for a creature before her. Its voice was a low, deep baritone or, perhaps, a soft bass. When it nudged her chin with the side of its face, she heard it repeat the two words. Then it was followed by another set, each simple. _'Hurt. Hungry. Feed me.'_

She recalled when it had answered her questions in her mindscape with her own memories, how she had felt its frustration as it tried to answer her. It was learning, she realized. It was picking up cues _from her_ , learning _through her,_ and the thought terrified her. She was alive because of it, because it had done something to her. She wondered if her own violent reaction to _eating_ was a byproduct of their…union. When it nudged her again, is muzzle pressing against her stomach, the teenager knew she had no choice but to do what it wanted.

Hermione climbed out of bed, grabbed the mug from the bedside, and then paused. She looked up at the creature, neck craned back so she could stare into burning orange orbs floating in the darkness of empty, black sockets. She wet her lips. "What do you want?"

 _'Hungry. Hurt. Feed.'_

How useful. Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "Stay here. I'll bring food."

When she slipped out of the room, vertigo washed over her. She slumped into a wall, shaking her head as she pressed a dainty, tanned hand to her forehead. When she looked up, the hall twisted and spun. Hermione was sure she'd be sick, once more, on the hallway floor.

She took a moment to gather herself, eyes clamped shut. She listened to her surroundings, listened to the soft snores she could hear from behind multiple doors. Behind another was what sounded like – _God, why? –_ groaning and a creaking mattress. Hermione shuddered, cheeks flushing as she scampered by the door in question as quickly as she could. She didn't want to know.

When Hermione made her way into the kitchen, a sense of urgency flared in her gut. Upstairs, a certain monster was getting impatient. Hermione opened the fridge, not quite sure what its diet consisted of. Meat, most likely. The shape of its skull, where its eyes sat, the fangs – those were all traits of a carnivore. She found some uncooked meat on the bottom shelf, which she grabbed. It was small, though. Was it enough?

A sharp, impatient cry echoed through her thoughts. Hermione grabbed some eggs and bread from the counter. She also grabbed an unopened jar of peanut butter and a large spoon. She also grabbed the honey, piling the growing supply of food into a basket. Without hesitation, Hermione turned and fled back to her room. Once the door was closed behind her, she eyed the great, skeletal beast and nearly fell onto her backside when it pushed its face against her. A long, black tongue wrapped around her wrist, tugging at the basket.

Hermione grit her teeth. "Let me get everything out!"

It snapped its fangs at her and Hermione dropped the basket on the floor. The meat vanished faster than she could process, vanishing into that massive jaw and its too-sharp teeth. Eggs followed, shells crunching and dusting the ground with bits of shiny, white pieces. An orange vanished next, peel and all. The banana and bread, too. When it sniffed and rolled the jar of peanut butter across the floor, Hermione finally stepped in and grabbed the jar.

It wasn't long before she was spooning thick, oily peanut butter into its open mouth. After all the food was gone, its snout pressed against her stomach and legs and chest. When Hermione noticed that it sniffed her with each action, her expression fell. It was still hungry. She thought of all it had already eaten, right in front of her, and then let her thoughts shift to the burning _hunger_ consuming them from within. When it shoved her towards the door, Hermione's heels bit into the floor.

"No," She threw her arms up, slapping them across the door so she wouldn't fall into the door that swung open behind her. The creature peered down at her, burnt-orange spheres darkening. A harsh sensation sparked through her thoughts. Hermione pushed those feelings away as she said, "If you want food, get it somewhere _else._ There's not enough food here for you."

 _'Hungry,'_ the creature hissed, and Hermione noticed how the creature's voice was bitonal. The deep tenor was still there, but there was a secondary tone cutting through it – higher in pitch, perhaps a byproduct of its anger. When it pressed against her, her nails scratching over the wood, the creature's mind washed over hers in a wave of hot, _all-consuming need._ Her lips parted in a silent gasp as her grip loosened and then, to her utter humiliation, she was sprawled out on the hallway floor as it said, _'Feed me. Hungry. More. Feed me.'_

Hermione watched as the creature walked _through_ the wall so that the front portion of its body was in the hall. Like a ghost. She stared up at it as massive paws caged her in, its face hovering over hers. Swallowing, Hermione murmured, "There's not enough food here. You need to get it from _somewhere else."_

It backed up when she propped herself up on her elbows and moved away so she could climb to her feet. Hermione walked backward, gaze on the creature as it followed her through the hallway as that intense, painful hunger burned deep within them. Within _it;_ Hermione drew in a breath as she reminded herself that it wasn't _her_ hunger that she was experiencing.

She led it downstairs and out the back door, willing it to vanish into the dark. There had to be food somewhere else. When it turned to her, she knew what was coming before it hissed, _'Come.'_

"No," Hermione inched towards the wall, arms wrapped around herself. "I have to stay here."

 _'Come,'_ the creature turned back to her, eyes tinted red along the edge of the iris. Its tail snapped through the air, vanishing as it passed through a stone wall and then it was out in the open again. It towered over her, a low, rumbling growl vibrating the air around them when she did not move after the second command. It snapped its jaws at her, voice low and hard as it said, _'Come, 'Mion.'_

Hermione's lips parted in a gasp as something hot and dangerous curled through her veins, liquid flame rushing through her body. Her legs moved as if they had a will of their own. As she fought against the sensations curling through her body, Hermione's body took another step forward into the darkness of the Black's backyard. The creature turned away. _'Come. We Hunt.'_

She stepped away from the house, the stones of the back walkway cold and damp under her bare feet. They wouldn't be gone long. They'd just go out, find some food, and then they would return before _anyone_ realized they had even left the house. Hermione knew this creature had to eat, that food was necessary – she knew nothing good would come of it being hungry and near her friends.

This would be a good chance to observe the creature, to get to see it move and think.

The moment she was on the street, it was bounding away as nothing more than a pale, transparent shadow. When she didn't follow right off the bat, she sensed its ire and then its gaze was on her. Even from a great distance, its eyes burned like dying suns. A light pressure pressed against her thoughts, a foreign entity that demanded her attention. Hermione frowned.

She followed the creature, barefoot and dressed in a nightgown. What was this thing, anyway?

Where did it come from? What could it do? What were its strengths and weaknesses?

Why was it latched onto her like an overgrown parasite?

As far as she knew, creatures couldn't _fuse_ themselves to another living thing without the aid of magic that was black in nature. This creature and its rapidly learning mind seemed like a monster the Dark Lord would unleash on the world, on _Harry,_ but here she was…

…dressed in a skimpy nightgown and taking a walk through a muggle city. Her parents would die, if they saw her now. She ran her hands over the front of her nightgown, half-aware of the creature as it ghosted through the city and hunted down what it needed. As time passed, she felt the hunger abating. The creature was feeding, though of _what_ Hermione didn't dare ponder.

In this instance, she knew it was best to remain oblivious.

If she didn't know, she was still an innocent. She wanted to remain that way.

 _'Feed?'_

Hermione blinked, looking up at the creature looming over her. Under the moonlight, it didn't _look_ to be a nightmare made flesh despite its skeletal appearance and deadly, smoldering eyes. White bones and black muscle weaved and twisted together to bring this massive thing to life, and, while it was transparent, Hermione knew it had substance. _'Hungry. You feed.'_

"I can eat when I get to the house," Hermione murmured as she stared up at it, marveling as currents of magical energy weaved around it. Could it fly? She didn't see wings, but she knew that didn't mean anything? Could it breathe under water? Could it see in the dark? Was it male or female?

The last question drew her up short and Hermione blinked, voice soft as she asked, "What sex are you, anyway? I can't keep calling you 'it.'"

Confusion answered her question, a complete lack of understanding. Hermione exhaled, slowly, as she tried to think of a way to explain – and then she remembered her muggle anatomy books. It had been embarrassing, when she had first gotten her hands on them. Nine years old, always so eager to get her hands on _anything_ to read. She was unfortunate enough to find a college-level book on anatomy written by an American author.

The diagrams had been thorough. She recalled those same images now, trying to see if, maybe, the creature would understand. Hermione sensed it, felt its mind against her, and then it snorted in a way she hadn't thought possible before it hissed, _'Neither. Both. No sex. All sex.'_

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what that meant. It growled. _'No mate to copulate.'_

A fuller sentence, clearer. Hermione turned this information over in her head, voice low as she asked, "You don't _need_ a mate to produce offspring?"

Her head was starting to hurt, too many memories being dragged to the foreground. _'No offspring.'_

She had the image of her birthing, family hound in mind when it said that. Hermione blinked, not quite understanding. As her lips parted, a question on her tongue, it hissed, _'No more talk. Hurts.'_

Hermione's jaw clicked shut. The creature led them back towards where Sirius's home was, its long tail swaying through the air. It wasn't long before she was creeping through the back door and up the stairs to her room. Once inside, she sat on the corner of her bed. The creature hadn't come in with her, but she sensed it still. As she flopped onto her back, its voice came to her.

 _'Male,'_ Hermione blinked at the one word. _'Old. Strong. Led others, once. Male.'_

There was something terribly sad about that admission – that _once_ it had led others of its kind. She remembered her first encounter with this creature, how _he_ had been left to die while the rest of his kind waited eagerly for his passing. Was it their intention to eat him, once he died? Or had they only dared go down that dangerous slope because _she_ had been down there, too starved to care about the danger waiting in the shadows of some forgotten place.

It wasn't long until she drifted to sleep, tired mind whirling.

.

The next day came with startling clarity and Hermione roused during the evening to learn Harry had gone, and returned, from his trial with a victory under his belt. He was going to Hogwarts. She knew he would, though the relief she felt was the same regardless. The thought of Harry not being at school, stuck with his relatives, sickened her. Those muggles were the prime example why the rest of the muggle community was judged so harshly. Not everyone could embrace the reality of magic with open arms and an open mind.

She was fortunate her own parents had taken the unveiling so well. Hermione couldn't picture her life without the gentle love of her parents, aunts and uncles, and her numerous cousins. Hermione was happy to be going back to school, happy to be at the train station with Harry and Ron at her side. She was happy to see Neville running up, a wide grin on his face. She was happy to see Luna drifting over, wand behind her ear and book upside down. She was happy.

Hermione knew she would be _happier_ if a certain pale, ghostly creature wasn't perched on the top of the train. It took everything she had to _not_ stare at him. She was tempted to yell, to tell him to _'get down before someone sees you!'_ When that thought flashed through her thoughts, dark, orange-red orbs focused on her. Amusement rang through her thoughts.

Then he yawned and rested his head on massive, deadly claws. Hermione wanted to scream.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

The bushy-haired girl turned her attention to Neville, smiling as he took her trunk. She handed him Luna's and Ginny's after, quiet for a moment before she finally said, "It's been a rough summer."

"I've heard," Neville helped her into the train, Luna and Ginny following. "Ginny owled me."

Hermione shot the redheaded girl an even look, frowning as Ginny returned her silent accusation with a cheeky grin. The darker girl shook her head, nonplussed by the younger student as she turned to Luna who was, much to her discomfort, staring _intently_ at her. Unaccustomed to such a look _(Harry was always the one on the end of that expression Luna wore),_ Hermione shifted from one foot to the next as Harry and Ron vanished inside the Hogwarts' Express.

Luna smiled. "The air around you, it's different. I'm not sure what to think."

"Think whatever you like," Hermione made her way onto the train, aware of _his_ sudden attention on the conversation as Luna replied, "I've never seen anything like this before. There aren't any algori around you, which is odd..."

Hermione sighed. "Why is that odd?"

"Because _everyone_ has algori around them," Luna stated calmly as they stopped in the hall. The chill in the air, Hermione wasn't imagining it. As she turned, she saw Luna's breath turn to a frozen, white cloud between them. The pale-haired girl didn't seem to notice as she said, "Witches and wizards are always surrounded by the algori, Hermione. Yours…are gone."

Before Hermione could open her mouth, someone drawled behind her, "If it isn't my favorite mudblood and Loony Lovegood."

Hermione turned to see Malfoy standing in the hall, hands in his pockets and a cocky smirk in place. He was by himself, which was unusual in and of itself. The curly-haired witched blinked. She looked at Luna, voice even as she asked, "Even _Malfoy_ has algori?"

"Even Malfoy, as sad as it is," Luna lamented, looking torn and unhappy. "He abuses them."

"What?" Malfoy interjected, confused.

He looked between them, confusion in his eyes even as his lips curled back into a sneer. She wondered how someone so pretty could make such an ugly expression, though she suspected the answer was culture and his upbringing. She'd seen his dad, once. He didn't seem like a man who could love anyone, let alone his wife or son – but she didn't _know_ the man, so what could she say?

She blinked when he said, "Do the two of you intend to stand there all day?"

There were bags under his eyes, his words heavy. He seemed tired, she realized. The very air around them seemed to press upon his shoulders, as if something great and ominous weighed on his shoulders. Hermione pursed her lips into a thin line, not all that sure what to say when she noticed the badge gleaming on his cloak.

"You've been made a prefect?" Hermione flushed, uncomfortable as he blinked. His gaze followed hers, shifting to the shiny, silver emblem fastened over his heart with little interest. The confusion was back, his brow furrowed as he stared at her like she had lost her mind. She understood why when he said, slowly, "Didn't you get your letter, Granger?"

"What letter?" She stared at him in turn, not quite sure what to think.

Malfoy shook his head before he extracted a letter from his pocket. He offered it to her, voice even as he said, "All newly appointed prefects are owled a letter informing them of their new obligations and duties. We are also given a list stating the current prefects and new Head Boy and Girl. Here."

Hermione took it, unfolding the paper and scanning the contents. Sure enough, her name was listed there, directly underneath Ron's. She blinked when she noticed she was the _only_ fifth-year prefect in Gryffindor, slowly looking up at Malfoy. It was like he already knew what was crossing her mind as he said, "I take it you don't know, either. Salazar, this summer's been fucked up…"

Hermione's shock must have been transparent because Malfoy snorted. "Don't act all surprised, _Granger._ Even I can have a moment. Come on, we need to get to the meeting."

"Meeting?" She trailed after him without much thought, watching as he tossed a look her way.

Malfoy's voice was lacking any hostility when he said, "Prefects and Head Boy and Girl meet in the first compartment to go over our duties for this year and the following. It's mandatory. When you didn't show up, they sent me to look for you."

Hermione nodded. Now she knew why he hadn't just brushed her and Luna aside when he found them, but she wasn't sure why he seemed to be worn so _thin._ She had never seen him like his, so open and tired. Malfoy didn't seem to care. After a moment, Hermione asked, "Are you okay?"

He cast a quick look at her, out of the corner of his eye. In the back of her mind, she felt _him_ stir and shift. The beast was quiet as Malfoy finally said, carefully, "I'm not the one you should be worrying about, Granger. Especially this year. You'd be wise to remember that."


	6. Chapter 6

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

* * *

Malfoy's words would hang over her head for months to come, something Hermione was keenly aware of. The warning in his voice, the uncharacteristic caution of his soft warning genuine in a way she hadn't been prepared for. Even after the meeting in the first compartment, consisting of a list of duties Hermione had already read about before in 'Hogwarts: A History,' and even after patrolling the corridors, she couldn't shake off the way Malfoy had looked and the way he had _sounded_ when he gave her that warning. What did he know that she didn't and why warn her about it?

She couldn't wrap her head around it. As she, Ron, and Harry made their way to the castle and through the grand, open doors that would lead them to the Great Hall, the odd conversation she had with Draco stayed with her. Her stomach churned the moment the scents of food hit her senses, her stomach clenching as bile rose in the back of her throat. She swallowed it, refusing to be sick in front of so many people. She refused to cave under her body's demands under the critical eye of her Headmaster, Head of House and _Professor Snape._ All three were watching her - she could sense their attention, even if it wasn't readily obvious.

As she pressed a hand over her mouth, Harry placed a hand on her elbow as he asked, "You okay?"

Swallowing, Hermione nodded. "My stomach's upset, that's all."

 _'Food,'_ a low, sibilant voice echoed in the back of her mind. Hermione ignored him. _'Pain…'_

Hermione knew the scent of the food was making her insides hurt. She didn't need _him_ telling her that, which made her wonder if the creature even had a name. The confusion she felt came within seconds and she wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose. As she took her place at the table, happily taking the glass of water that suddenly appeared, she tried not to think about how these food-empty tables _smelled_ like food – where was the logic in that?

She wondered the same for the creature she was bound to, remembered how dangerous and deadly it had seemed before it tied them together. Was it _really_ a dangerous, deadly creature? As she sipped at the water, she felt her magic stir and flicker underneath her skin. Her eyes closed. The rest of the Houses were sitting, now, and the conversation passing amongst the students was trivial and utterly unimportant.

"Do you _see_ him?" Lavender Brown's sudden comment caught Hermione's attention, the pretty blonde girl's voice low as she sat to Parvati Patil, "He's the Defense professor, I _know_ it!"

"What about that woman in pink?" Patil asked, voice low.

Brown snorted. "I highly doubt a woman as ugly as _her_ would be our professor."

Hermione turned to look at the Head Table, not quite sure how such a comment could ever be applied towards their teacher. Dumbledore was at the center of the table, and, when he noticed her stare, he dipped his head in greeting. He turned to McGonagall and continued whatever conversation they were having with fervor. She spotted Professor Snape up there, eyes closed as he (she assumed) attempted to sooth whatever headache had fallen upon him.

It didn't take her long to see the two people Brown and Patil were discussing. The first Hermione noticed was the woman, a semi-tall lady wearing too much pink and seemed to eye all the students with a critical eye. There was a black bow in her hair, the feature so offsetting that she wasn't quite able to look away. When she did, her gaze slid to the other new person at the table.

He was young, she noted. Younger than her Potions Professor who was, admittedly, the _youngest_ professor at Hogwarts – he had been, before this black-haired man stepped into the picture. He had his hands clasped, chin resting on his interlocked fingers. His gaze was hard, unyielding, and he seemed to be contemplating something very seriously.

When the pink-clad woman tried to touch his arm, a harsh look had her reeling away from him. In Hermione's book, he had just scored a point – no professor should _ever_ dress the way that woman was. It was plain unprofessional. When she turned, she noted how Harry was frowning. Nudging his shoulder with hers, Hermione said, "Headache?"

"Yeah," Harry rubbed at his brow, green eyes tired. He shot a smile at her as he asked, "It came out of nowhere. Do you have any painkillers on you?"

Hermione fished three out of her bookbag, dropping them in his palm. He thanked her before washing them down with her water and then rested his head on the table. Hermione rubbed soothing circles against her back as her creature hissed, _'He hurts.'_

She let her thoughts mingle with the creature's, felt along the odd network of ever-alive energy and how her own magic seemed to shift and flicker under her skin in response. Growing stronger, insistent and angry. Harry moved, his head finding purchase on her shoulder as he groaned. She threaded her fingers through his hair, nails scrapping his scalp as the First Years crept into the Great Hall with all the frightened grace they possessed.

The Sorting Hat was placed on the stool, his song beginning. Hermione had half-a-mind to pay it any attention until, suddenly, the beast's mind jerked on hers and her head whipped towards where the Sorting Hat rested. He had finished one verse, a disquieted darkness settling as he then said:

 _Now Listen Closely To My Broken Song,_

 _Of Darkness and Pain And Suffering,_

 _And All Pure Things That Have Been Wronged._

 _You Have Heard How Four Divided,_

 _How Friendships Have Ended,_

 _How Something Noble Was Left Unguided._

 _A Beast Walks, Unseen, Among Us,_

 _Ancient And Angry, Full Of Hunger,_

 _Hidden Under Its Shadow Is A History Of Rust._

 _Be Advised, For A Master Walks These Ancient Halls,_

 _Home At Last, After Being Gone For So Long,_

 _A Storm's Coming, Be Wary Before You Fall._

Hermione was accustomed to very odd poems the hat would sprout off, but the silence spreading across the Great Hall wasn't like the others. There was a tension, a wave of unease. Hermione felt it within herself, her skin tingling as Harry's head lifted off her shoulder. His gaze was on the Hat, green eyes wide as he stared. Hermione felt the beast stir, a cold tremor making its way down her spine as its senses brushed against hers.

The feeling she got from it could only be described as dark amusement. Hermione opted to ignore the beast after that, turning her attention to how Headmaster Dumbledore stood and silenced the hall just by standing. Once everyone was staring at him, Hogwarts' Headmaster smiled.

"Before we begin the feast, there are a few announcements which are to be made," Dumbledore let the words settled for a moment, silent as he waited for the quiet whispers to die down. Hermione sat upright, gaze on the elderly man as he continued, "First off, I would like to introduce all of you to Professor Ari Delovor, here from America. He will be instructing all of you in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Professor Delovor?"

The man Hermione had noticed earlier stood, movements fluid. His hair framed his face in a way that drew out the intensity of his sheer presence, longer in the back. He dipped his head to the Headmaster before taking the middle of the stage, hands folded behind his back as his gaze swept over the room. Harry was sitting up, now, gaze sharp and hard on the man on the other end of the room. Hermione saw the look on his face and her gaze shifted to their new professor.

As a veil of unease settled, Professor Delovor said, "On behest of the American Magical School Association, I am here to observe and compare how the education of minors in Magical England and Europe differ from those within the United States."

Silence settled over the great hall as Professor Delovor let his attention shift over the tables, hard eyes sweeping over every student. When his gaze landed on her, his voice was carrying across the room with ease. "As the term progresses, student-teacher conferences between myself and _each_ of you will be mandatory. Should any of you attempt to skip them, detention and a loss of points will the first punishment. Any questions?"

Hermione stared, jaw slack.

Then she snapped her mouth shut, eyes narrowed as a Ravenclaw's hand shot into the air. Professor Delovor nodded to this boy and the Ravenclaw stood and asked, "How will detentions with _other_ professors be handled if we have a meeting scheduled with you at the same time?"

"Simple," Professor Delovor stepped forward, one hand coming to rest on the podium. The boy, perhaps a forth- or fifth-year student remained silent until their new professor said, "Each teacher will be given a list of dates and times these conferences will be scheduled. Before assigning detentions, they will cross-reference these lists to ensure they do not overlap."

Professor Ari Delovor, Hermione realized, was a loose cannon. Headmaster Dumbledore held no power over this man, something she wasn't comfortable with. She watched as he turned and stalked to the table, long black robe billowing around him as the woman in pink stood and made her way to the front. Hermione's brow began to tick when the woman stated she was here on the _Ministry's_ orders. Hermione's hands flexed, brows furrowed in barely surprised rage when they were finally allowed to eat and talk amongst themselves once more.

Once the other Gryffindor's had their attention on her anger, Hermione finally said, "That Umbridge woman, she's here to _change_ how the school teaches the students. From what I gathered, the Ministry is doubtful of the _effectiveness_ of our education. They want to change what we learn, to filter it. They want to limit what we're able to do!"

She was outraged. Across from her, Kellah Sanders frowned. "The new Defense Professor won't make that easy for her, from what I saw."

This was something Harry agreed to, something that surprised the curly-haired witch. Harry caught her gaze as he said, "He's stern, Hermione. The look he gave that woman when they passed each other, it was _hostile._ He doesn't like her."

"Neither do I," Hermione turned her nose away from the food one of the others offered her, stomach rolling as the scent hit her nose. A few of the Gryffindors were silent, then, and Hermione shook her head. When a shadow fell over her, she turned to see Professor Snape standing behind her. When their gazes locked, he said, "Come with me, Miss Granger. Dumbledore has instructed me to take you to the infirmary to get you a nutrition potion to settle your stomach."

As they left the Great Hall, she senses the beast trailing them. She felt its hunger, felt how her insides began to burn and her mouth began to pulse. Her _teeth_ hurt. Running her tongue along the top set, she tried to focus on where they were walking. Behind her, the beast rumbled and snarled.

 _'Hungry,'_ the soft, ghostly whisper drifted over her senses. _'Outside. Now.'_

Hermione refused, trailing after her teacher. A harsh, burning pain flared between her shoulders and she staggered under the sudden, unexpected pain. A calloused hand caught her elbow, holding her upright as her stomach clenched and a cold sweat broke out across her skin. Swallowing, she righted herself and apologized to her professor.

Snape stared down at her, expression unreadable. "Is there something you'd like to say, Granger?"

"No, sir," Hermione's voice was breathless, raspy. She swallowed, hoping to wet her mouth. "I think I just need to rest, is all. Perhaps I should just head to the Tower…"

"No," Snape guided her further into the building, closer to the infirmary. "You haven't been able to stomach _anything_ in the last few days other than the broth I've been making you. I had a House Elf deliver some to the infirmary. It will be placed there, every day, until further notice."

Hermione stared at this man, stunned. "Sir?"

"What is it, Granger?" Hermione eyed the hard line of his jaw, the darkness in his eyes. His lips curled back into a sneer as he said, "What you're going through, it _isn't_ normal. I may not like you, but you _are_ my student. Therefore, it is my duty to ensure your wellbeing."

A blunt, logical answer. Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

When he stared, she added, "When do you think I'll be able to actually _eat_ something?"

 _'When we hunt,'_ the beast's angry, rumbling growl answered.

Snape led them into the infirmary, "Once you're fully healed, I'd imagine."

Hermione blinked. She sat on one of the beds after Snape gestured to it, ankles crossed and hands resting patiently in her lap. Professor Snape vanished for a few minutes before returning, a bowl in his hands. He handed this to her, a potion in his other hand. She reached for that, voice calm as she said, "I think I'll be able to handle the potion better if I drink it first. Otherwise I'll be tempted to throw it up. Which could, possibly, happen."

Once he handed the potion over, she drank it. Then she tucked into her food, warmth flooding her insides as the meaty, watery soup washed down her throat and settled on a too-empty stomach. As she drained the bowl, she noted how her mouth _still_ hurt and pressed the heel of her palm to her jaw with a disgruntled scowl. Then she looked at her professor, voice even as she asked, "Do you have any experience with medical-based magic, sir?"

"Why?"

"Because my mouth's killing me," Hermione deadpanned, then winced as another wave of red-hot agony pulsed through her teeth. Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before saying, "Open your mouth, Granger, and I'll see if I can see anything."

She did as she was told, uncomfortable with the magic washing over her teeth and gums or the fingers gently probing at her gums. When something irony washed over her teeth and coated her tongue, she let out a whine as her professor swore under his breath. At the door, she heard Madam Pomfrey said, "Oh, dear! Did something happen?"

"She said her mouth was hurting," Professor Snape replied, stepping back. Hermione kept her eyes closed as another wave of magic settled over her body, the nurse's magic, and then her lip was pulled back as Madam Pomfrey said, "Her gums are inflamed. When did they start hurting, dear?"

Hermione swallowed the blood before saying, "Today."

In the back of her mind, a low, resonating growl echoed. Hermione ignored it in favor of letting the nurse exam her, Snape watching with narrowed eyes. Madam Pomfrey continued, "You've lost about fifty pounds, over the summer. You're barely over one-hundred pounds."

Hermione shifted, uncomfortable. Snape's eyes narrowed further. Harry and Ron came in at that moment, much to her relief. They chatted with her as she finished her soup and waited as she lightly thanked their Potions Professor. As Hermione left the room, she knew the nurse and the Potions Master were watching. She could feel their gazes on her back.

She could also feel the beast's attention on her, feel its presence falling over her in waves. As she, Harry and Ron made their way to Gryffindor Tower, the rage came in surges. The hunger lingered, her mouth throbbing. She smiled, regardless. Her skin itched, magic humming angrily in her veins.

Malfoy's warning, it came to her then. The Sorting Hat's, too.

They had both spoken of an oncoming danger, something that was already here. Hermione shot a look at Harry. Should she tell him? Seeing his tired eyes, the way his shoulders slumped, she knew it could wait until the next day. She should let him get some sleep. Her gaze shifted to Ron, to the laughter of his that echoed and bounced. He was the normal one, now.

Harry, he was bound to the killer that murdered his parents.

She was bound to a creature equally dark in nature.

Hermione made her way to her dorm, ready to settle in for the night and rest. With the potion and soup resting on her stomach, mouth still sore, she closed her eyes. As she sat on the edge of her bed, she let her head fall back. She relaxed, muscles loosening. Hermione settled on her elbows, and then on her back, as her body grew heavy and numb.

Then something hot and wet splattered over her neck and shoulder, a low snarl cutting through the darkness of the girl's dormitory. Hermione's eyes flew open, yet she couldn't move. Despite the darkness, she was surrounded by _white._ Before her, floating in an ocean of white, was two black holes that threatened to consume two dying suns.

 _'I will not be ignored, 'Mion Granger.'_


	7. Chapter 7

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

* * *

Knowledge was power, something Hermione believed adamantly. Knowing what was around you, knowing how one thing related to another – be it magic, science, or simple observation – was one thing that could determine if someone lived or if they died. Wisdom was the ability to take lessons learned, through experience and study, and apply them to a situation that was otherwise difficult.

Nothing Hermione had ever learned or gone through could have prepared her for the violence of a monster fueled by agonizing hunger and rage. She couldn't breathe as it forced her further into the bed, her body numb and her neck and shoulder stinging. Blazing, burnt-orange orbs stared, unblinking, at her as a pale maw opened and a black tongue snaked out.

That tongue dragged across her neck. _'You will not ignore me, 'Mi little mortal.'_

It was taunting her, she realized. Using a part of her name, _degrading_ her to such a thing. _It's_ little mortal – Hermione felt sick, suddenly. She was cold, unable to look away from the burning gaze staring down at her as the creature pushed her further into the bed. The sides of the mattress were starting to rise, as if being inflated as a heavy weight held the middle to the ground. Hermione tried to push the creature away, tried to will her limbs to move.

Her body refused to listen. The creature laughed. _'You will obey.'_

 _"No,"_ Hermione forced that one word out between unwilling lips, struggling to move as the deadly claw pushed her further into the bed. A low, snarling growl cut through the silence. Saliva splattered the bed around her, the blankets hissing as they began to burn and corrode. "I am my _own_ person, damn it! You can't make me do _anything…"_

Something dark and ominous aroused at that declaration. _'You will obey.'_

Pain shot through her temple, igniting behind her eyes. Hermione felt her body trying to arch off the bed, her lips parting in a silent gasp as red filled her vision. The edges were black and hazy, but the deep, _thumping,_ heart-like noise she heard filled her body. She was sinking, body rapidly dropping and, when she hit the ground, the scream that escaped was followed by violent coughing.

The ground under her was cold and soft. Hermione struggled to draw in air, her body caught in the throes of agony. Her heels bit into the soft ground, nails digging through the moss and finding purchase in the cold, wet soil. A frozen breeze washed over her skin, caressing her thighs and forearms as she gasped for breath. Over her, a pale, bone-white monster howled to the starless sky.

Hermione felt the fury burning in its heart, felt the hatred in its soul. It pulsed through her.

As her vision began to clear, she saw ruins. Tall, towering bookshelves missing sections of books, broken tables, and ruined walls. A solid, furious clawed hand shoved her harder into the ground seconds before a deep, resonating voice snarled, _'I will not be disobeyed by a mortal child.'_

Hermione grit her teeth. She couldn't draw enough breath to talk, now. If it pressed any harder, she would break. She felt her ribs protesting, felt her body shuddering and her bones creaking under the pressure. Hermione managed to free one arm, her fingers wrapping shakily around a too-sharp talon that curled against her side.

"Can't… _breathe…"_

Hermione felt air rushing into her, then. The weight vanished, the creature retreating. Its tail snapped through the air over her, slamming into a bookcase and shattering the wood as if it was nothing more than fragile, ancient pottery. Rolling onto her side, pushing herself up onto one elbow as she pressed a hand to her chest, Hermione groaned. She rested there, for a time, with her head bowed. She drew in one breath after another, trying to calm her racing heart and soothe her sore, bruising body. The pain lingered, hers but not.

After a time, she was able to draw herself to her feet. Hermione felt her body sway, weak and unsteady. Cracking her neck, she turned and observed her mindscape. She sensed it– _him,_ a part of her corrected –in the room, circling. Hermione knew it– _he_ –was watching her, observing her as she took in the damage and the destruction and the crumbling building that had once been a place of inner reflection and safety when the real world was _too much to handle._

One bookshelf was completely empty, the shelves busted and the frame in pieces. Hermione let her hands run over the battered wood, watching as it crumbled with stinging eyes. Her hands shook as something hot and ugly burned with her, cutting through the hunger gnawing at her mind. Her hands fisted, wood crumbling to dust under her grip.

"Why?" The question echoed through the ruin, drifting upon an imaginary breeze.

Then she felt him, saw a glimpse of that pale, bladed tail. _'This place…no longer yours alone.'_

Hermione knew, from her last time here, that _he_ was learning how to speak from her. From her memories, from her thoughts. She didn't turn around as she felt him coming upon her, did not turn when his shadow fell over her shuddering, tortured body. Hermione did not flinch when hot, humid air washed over her – his breath, she knew then. This creature, it was so _massive_ that its breath was like a steady, persistent wind upon her skin. Her eyes closed.

 _'We are joined,'_ Hermione tried to push the words away, to walk away. The ground in front of her exploded, stones and dirt hurtling through the air. She felt him move, felt the moss under their paws and the bookcases breaking against their tail – Hermione shook herself, heart nearly stopping as the joint-sensations flooded her. _'Fighting is pain.'_

He was flickering in and out of sight, each spastic movement accompanied by a cavernous snarl of unadulterated rage. Hermione realized, then, that he wasn't at full strength. He was _recovering_ after whatever had happened in the–

Hermione screamed, loud and shrill, as nails tore into her mind. Images flashed behind her eyes, too fast to track. The creature was gaining form, again, leaching off her energy. She fought back, pushing against the intrusion. When it did not abate, she turned her attention towards _waking up._

If she was here, in her _mindscape,_ then she was aslee–

Hermione's knees buckled as a massive force slammed into her stomach, knocking the breath from her as the creature howled in fury. He was across the room – no, he was _in the building._ Hermione knew she was beyond the ruined walls of the library, now. She could feel the grass, the long stalks curling around her as if to shelter her from the whiplash of this monster's fluctuating emotions.

Then she realized how impossible it was – her _mindscape_ was the library, large and rare and a sight to behold. It wasn't a ruin. It didn't contain a massive, sprawling, landscape. Rolling over, pushing up until she was on her hands-and-knees, Hermione crawled away from the building and the creature inside of it as panic began to surge through her body.

 _This wasn't her mindscape._

The suddenness of the realization was terrifying, the change occurring in her _mentally_ a nightmare she had only dreamed of. Now it was real. Her mind was infected with something ancient and, undoubtedly, _evil –_ just as her body was. Hermione had thought it could tap _only_ into her thoughts, into her memories, because of some ghostly link between them.

It was far darker than that, far more serious.

She heard his laughter, then. _'You see, now. You see.'_

 _She didn't want to see!_

Hermione pushed herself up to her feet, taking off at a run as the creature howled to the sky. She needed to distance them– _was this place its mindscape? Did creatures even have these kinds of defenses and mental structures? –_ so she could find a way out of this mess. She had to get away, if only to figure out what was happening to her, to _them,_ before something horrid happened.

Hermione knew how to wake up. She didn't know how to do it with that _monster_ attached to her.

He knew when she tried, the last time, just as she knew when he moved. He was always watching her. Even now, she could see _herself,_ darkly tanned skin and long, curly hair, fleeing through the waist-high grass. Through him, she smelt her own terror, smelt the alluring scent of life-giving fluid running through her veins.

She could hear her own heartbeat, a wild and lurid song within the confines of her chest.

Hermione, for once, didn't think– she reached for the link between mind and body and _yanked._

She heard the screech of fury even as her body jerked on the bed, her eyes flying open again as she struggled to breathe. The beast wasn't anywhere to be seen, not even as she shot upright. She clutched the top of her blankets with panicked eyes, looking for any sign of the creature and his burning, red-orange eyes in the darkness. She was alone, however – the rest of the girls in the dorm were sleeping soundly, unaware of the creature that prowled, unseen, in their haven.

Hermione knew he was nearby. He was never far from her, always watching.

He might not have eased from the mental grounds they shared, just yet, but he was near. She could feel him, could feel the stone floor under their– _his –_ talon-clad feet. She could feel the silk sheets of Brown's bed as he passed it, the pristine red fabric barely stirring at his passing. She could smell the heavy scent of some other creature Hagrid loved surrounding Kellah Sanders' bed, the red-black haired girl twisting in her sleep as she muttered unintelligible words under her breath.

Hermione could see herself, sitting upright on the top of her bed, yet the beast himself she could not see. Anger coursed through her, then. He could _hide_ himself, simply vanish from sight as if some ungodly, massive Invisibility Cloak was thrown over his hulking form. She felt his sharp, biting amusement– his self-satisfaction –as clearly as she felt the paranoia creeping upon her.

She wanted to curse him, then. Spells whirled through her mind, one after another. Then she bulked at the thought, horror filling her as the dark undercurrents of her mood drifted away. Hermione crawled out of her bed, quick to leave the dormitory, and left Gryffindor House without looking back. She needed to get away. She needed space, distance, between herself and the others before…

Before what? Hermione stopped in the middle of the hallway, not quite sure what she was doing. She turned, looking down the long hallway that she had stalked down. Then she turned, blinking when she found Malfoy and Parkinson standing across from her, the two of them still and their expressions carefully guarded. Neither seemed willing to speak, at that moment. Not for the first time, Hermione wondered how many floors she had stormed through before coming upon them.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she snapped, "Move."

"Granger," Malfoy began, but Hermione cut him off with a cold look. His jaw snapped shut as she stepped forward, his, and Parkinson's, eyes widening as she snarled, "I haven't the time, or energy, to deal with your bullshit, no matter _how_ justified you believe yourself to be. Now _move."_

They stepped aside. Hermione swept between them, bare feet silent against the stones that rested, cold, underfoot. Amusement curled along the edges of her senses. Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowed and hair whirling around her as she made it down another flight of stairs. She knew from the beast that Malfoy and Parkinson were trailing a few feet behind her, both silent.

The two snakes were staring at her, confusion and surprise etched on their faces. Hermione felt a vein in her temple throb as another wave of anger wet the hunger in her core, demanding. She took another staircase down, jumping onto it as it began to shift. She wasn't going to wait.

Behind her, Malfoy snapped, "Granger, what the hell is wrong with you!"

The staircase was still moving, inching along. Hermione whirled around on him, furious. His eyes widened, Parkinson cringed. Hermione closed the distance between them as she spat, "What's wrong with me? _What's wrong with me?_ Is that the only damn thing you can ask, Malfoy? Maybe I'm fine and _you're_ the one that needs help! Have you thought of that? _Have you!"_

Draco held his hands up in surrender. Parkinson was still staring. Hermione's brow twitched. Her gaze settled on this black-haired girl and her judgmental eyes, her mind reversing to all the horrid things this girl had ever said to her. Something in her shifted, an impulse to grab that pale-haired _bitch_ by the throat – and she was staring, still. She smelled like one of the other snakes…

In a breath of seconds after her outburst at Malfoy, Hermione wanted to howl. She withdrew, nose burning and throat clogged. Her gaze narrowed. The words that spilled from her mouth, they came without permission. Her thoughts leapt and danced as her _internal_ monologue suddenly spat, _"Stop_ _staring at me, you goddamn slut!"_

Parkinson's jaw dropped. Hermione flushed, hands slapping over her mouth as Malfoy snorted. It was such a sudden sound that the curly-haired lioness wasn't sure she had heard it. When Parkinson whirled on him, her eyes sharp, Hermione knew she had heard right. It was only confirmed when the black-haired girl snapped, "Do you find this _funny,_ Draco? She just called me a slut!"

"You _are_ a slut, Pans," it wasn't Malfoy who said it, but someone else. Hermione realized, then, that the staircase had stopped, and she whirled on her heel to see Greengrass standing at the bottom with a sharp smile on her face. Zabini was beside her, eyes dancing with mirth. The pretty Slytherin girl made a gesture with her hand as she said, "Everyone _knows_ it, Pans. You were talking about how you wanted to castrate Smith-Aker at lunch, remember?"

"Oh my _god!"_ Hermione's face was burning, eyes impossibly wide. _Why did she say that?_

Malfoy laughed, then. "Calm down, Granger. It takes more than an insult to make us angry."

"You don't get it!" Hermione fled down the stairs, nearly screaming when she was grabbed and spun back around. Her feet were clear off the floor, her eyes wide as she continued despite the Italian holding her prisoner, "I just called Parkinson a _slut!_ I don't call _anyone…"_

Her mother would _kill_ her, if she knew what she had just said. Her father would be horrified. She placed her hands on the forearms crossed under her breasts, drawing in a breath as she tried to calm her racing heart. Then she paused, her gaze slowly shifting to Greengrass as she said, "You and Zabini, you're out after curfew…"

"Yes, we are," Zabini said, his breath tickling her ear. Hermione tucked her head into her shoulder, a squeak leaving her as another voice cut in, "All of you should be in bed, prefects or not."

Professor Snape and Professor Delovor were approaching. Hermione blinked. The Potions Master didn't look happy. Neither did the Defense professor, his eyes hard and dark as his gaze swept over the small group at the base of the stairs. When Professor Snape's gaze settled on her, his voice was hard. "And you, Miss Granger, were supposed to report to the infirmary three hours ago."

Her feet weren't touching the ground. Hermione pressed her foot against Zabini's leg, digging her toes into his kneecap as she pressed against the forearm holding her off the ground. He was chuckling, she realized. A low, deep sound that vibrated in his chest. She squirmed in his hold, the anger coming back in waves as a low, growl-like sound rumbled within her chest.

"Put me down," the words came out calm, despite the way the Italian serpent stilled. _"Now."_

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape's voice echoed, but she ignored him as she twisted and pushed, her breath coming out in sharp little pants as her stomach clenched and her gums throbbed. She knew her professor was calling her name even as she howled, _"Put me down, you damned snake!"_

He released her with a grunt, and Hermione landed, knees bent, in a crouch on the ground. She was trembling, hands shaking, as the Potions Master slowly advanced. "Miss Granger, you're in a state of stress. You need to come with me to the infirmary for your medicine."

Medicine. He meant _soup._ Hermione was upright, spine rolling as she straightened. She eyed him, for a moment, as a low, resonating growl echoed along the edge of her thoughts. The edges of her vision pulsed, orange-red, as she regarded this man in front of her. Then she smiled, slow at first, before she stepped to the side.

"I can go on my own, sir," Hermione said, softly. "You have two snakes out after curfew."

She ran her tongue along her gums, tasting blood. "I should go see Madam Pomfrey."

 _'You don't need the human healer,'_ the beast was stirring the shadows at the end of the hallway, shifting towards another staircase that drew her attention. She stepped in that direction, ignoring her professor as the creature hissed, _'Come outside. Run. Come…'_

Hermione felt a hand grab her elbow. "Miss Granger, we're going to the infirmary."

She knew it was the best, her body turning under the careful guidance of her Potions Master as a low, angry snarl cut through her thoughts. She felt the beast coming, smelled the scent of something soft and warm and _delicious,_ heard the heartbeat of many and the rushing _whoosh_ of blood pumping through veins. Then she saw the creature, pale and transparent and angry.

 _'Come,'_ the beast beckoned. _'Come or they bleed.'_

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Another chapter ends and things are getting messy. I'm so happy so many of you seem to like this story and I'm happy you're enjoying what's happening.

And, yes, pissing off the creature you share a body with isn't a good idea. I wouldn't advise it, Miss Granger. Ever. Harry knows plenty about that, I think. However, I have to say this chapter was a lot of fun to write. Quite a lot happened. It's been a while since I've been so driven to write something in the FanFiction community without having to stop and stare and _wonder what the hell comes next_. Because of that, I'm gonna go with it and let the story write itself for as long as it will. I hope all of you will _continue_ to like the story and eagerly anticipate everything that's coming.


	8. Chapter 8

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Hello, everyone!

It's been so _long_ since I've updated on this story. To be honest, I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with this. I've been having a hard time writing anything, but a recent trailer to a movie sparked the desire to jump back to _this_ story. It also inspired me to work on a few other stories in my vast collection of _unfinished stories_ I have on this site. I haven't abandoned anything, but getting through any of this has proven to be difficult when I've been absent for _months_.

I actually had to reread this story to recall what I've already written.

With that said, this chapter...takes a rather dark turn. Many of you liked the _last_ chapter, and I hope this one doesn't disappoint in any way. Other than the fact it is, without a doubt, shorter than what I would normally write. Can't be helped, though. I'm getting back into the motion of writing. It takes time and practice. This chapter is a loop of 'shit, holy fuck!' that really had me grinning. Hermione has one hell of a road ahead of her.

Other than this, I have been painting. Acrylic Pouring, to be exact. I've made a total of...nine paintings, so far. I'm doing pretty damn well, I'd say. It helps me think, when I don't know what to do in a story. A good outlet. You can find a few of my paintings on YouTube. All you have to do is look up Britta Nicole Miller on YouTube and it should bring you to me. I have videos on painting, video games (Stardew Valley, mostly), and paganism.

Anyway, that's it for _this_ update! So let's jump into the shit-fest!

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

* * *

To fight, to _resist,_ was pain. The beast, he had said as much.

Hermione knew this to be the truth, a factor of her life as it changed. Four snakes, two who were allowed to wander the halls and two who weren't, watched her – her classmates, their expressions guarded. Then there was Snape and the new Defense Professor, Delovor, both who were watching her as if she was ready to start hurling deadly, forbidden spells at them. The thought was a tempting one, the dark amusement flowing through her veins impossible to ignore.

Hermione was _changing._

The beast knew it, too. Could sense her hunger as surely as she felt its rage, knew her desire to defend these people as keenly as she understood its urge to _hurt_ them. Hermione stepped away from Professor Snape, lips pressed into a thin line as she said, "I can go on my own, sir."

"You shouldn't be out on your own in your condition," Professor Snape was calm, though she noted the tension in his jaw. He was clenching his teeth. Hermione swallowed, tongue sweeping along the roof of her bloody mouth as he said, "You're already late. Professor Delovor will see that Draco and his friends are returned to their House while I escort you to the infirmary."

 _'Come or they will bleed, Mion,'_ the beast was stalking closer, a pale shadow cutting through the darkness of the hallway. It was closing in on Malfoy and Zabini, the girls standing in front of them, and they were _all_ oblivious to the danger stalking ever closer. She could _smell_ the sweet aroma wafting off them, could hear the blood whooshing through their veins.

The beast snarled, voice echoing as it said, _'Weary am I of your resistance.'_

Hermione felt the pinpricks of pain sparking across her body, felt something cold and thick and _wet_ pooling along her spine. She could feel that thick, cool substance _traveling_ up her spine, wrapping around her neck as the beast whispered in her ear, _'If you shan't obey, they will scream.'_

The tips of her fingers had something thick and white pooling around them, seemingly pushing _through_ her skin and then slinking around the long, agile digits with a lover's caress. She could feel its heartbeat within her own breast, a deeper, slower, multi-chambered pattern that seemed to cage and hold and embrace her own frantically beating, terrified heart. As she eased away from Professor Snape, feeling that cold, thick, silken-rubber-like _substance_ pushing through her skin, it was a moment that had her brain kicking into high-gear.

Hermione prided herself on many things, her mind being the first and all-consuming aspect of her person worthy of notice. She wasn't all that funny. She was _bossy._ She was quick. Not in a physical sense, not like Harry or Ron. She was _mentally_ quick, able to work out the best course of action, intellectually, in a short span of time. When a monster threatens to kill a group of slytherins and their Head of House, and the new DADA professor, Hermione knew, in a moment's notice, the _best_ course of action was _to get the fuck away from them._

Trusting her instincts, Hermione did the only thing she knew how.

She turned and ran, one arm steadily turning white. Longer fingers, nails sharper.

In a heartbeat, she knew they– _she –_ was being pursued.

She hadn't expected _both_ teachers to take chase, one roaring her name as she skidded around a corner. The beast was sweeping through the halls like a deadly spirit, a curse unfurling, and she saw, through _its_ eyes, both Professor Snape and Delovor making their way down the hallway as Malfoy and Zabini led the girls away. Hermione could hear the quiet curses the Potion Master was muttering under his breath, could taste the churning magic of the other teacher.

Dark, heady, _intoxicating._

She sensed Snape's magic rise moments before he hurled a spell her way. Hermione threw herself into a side hallway, feeling the beast covering the grounds with more speed than she could muster, could hear Professor Snape's sharp exhale as it roared past him. His and Professor Delovor's robes whirled around them as windows shattered, the frames exploding as the beast's power covered the walls of Hogwarts' lower floors.

Then she was further away, the door that had been in front of her gone.

The hallway she knew _should_ have been on the other side was replaced by rolling fields of dark green, the grass wet as she crumbled upon it. Hermione gasped for breath, hair curling around her as she laid, hands-and-knees, in the grass. When she looked up, there were trees around her, a small pond a few feet to her left. When she sat up, the beast stood across from her.

Parts of it were missing.

Hermione stared, not quite comprehending why _its paws_ were gone. As she stood, swaying, she noted how chunks of its back, right along the spine, and the outermost layers of it neck, were _missing_ from it. When she lifted her hands, covered in a thick, metallic-white substance, her heart skipped a beat before stilling entirely.

 _"No…"_

The beast's rumbling laughter was insidious. _'Yes, Mion. It is as you see.'_

The beast, he was advancing. With every step he took towards her, parts of his hulking, large form chipped away. It started with his limbs, the thick, powerful arms and legs unraveling. In time, she could see the white substance _on her arms_ curling over itself, sweeping up her forearms. Like a glove of silver, it pooled over her skin.

When she tried to lift her arms to claw it off, her hands, and arms, refused to budge. Then a long tail was winding around her, attached, still, to the beast. His hulking form curled and bowed over her, closing in until she saw nothing but his face and burning, orange-red eyes lost in a pool of black. A long, black tongue lolled out of his mouth and curled, lazily, around her neck.

 _'You will learn, Mion. Resistance is pain,'_ the beast murmured, jaws unmoving despite the voice echoing around them. Hermione felts pinpricks of frustrated, terrified grief welling behind her eyes, felt the unshed tears pool and ready to fall. _'Never will we be alone, not when We-Are-One.'_

One. They were _one._ They weren't two separate entities, not when they both shared a single body. Not when they shared the same mindscape. As Hermione's arm lifted without her content, when her white-encased palm came to rest on the beast's brow, she realized, with a sense of horror, that _she_ was the weaker of the two. This creature, it could _overpower_ her.

It could _possess_ her. Fully.

 _'You understand,'_ the beast rumbled, inhaling. Hermione watched as the white started to reverse, sliding over itself towards her hand. As it continued, slinking further and further to her fingertips, where it had made its first appearance, the beast said, _'Do not forget, Mion. I am more than a spirit, more than a monster. I am_ yours, _Mion._ Your _spirit,_ your _monster. Your captor and your savior. I am the spark of evolution within your pathetic, mortal husk of a body.'_

Once her autonomy was returned, Hermione staggered backward. She watched as it moved, withdrawing from her space as it laughed. _'Come. We shall hunt.'_

There was no discussion involved. Hermione followed it away from the clearing, the grass cold and damp against her skin. Her thoughts shifted to her professors, both who had seemed to _angry_ when she had fled. Then to Zabini, who had held her off the ground with such _ease_. Malfoy had been different, his previous warning ringing in her heard.

Danger within Hogwarts. That there was someone to worry about.

A self-loathing laugh bubbled in her throat. They had _no idea_ what stalked amongst them. The students and staff, they couldn't even begin to _understand_ what sort of danger, what kind of creature, walked the halls of the ancient, magical school. Yet her mind shifted to what Malfoy had said, the exhaustion lining his eyes and his carefully-worded advice.

There were only two people who were new to the school – Umbridge and Delovor.

One of the two, if not _both_ of them, were likely up to no good. Umbridge, certainty. A Ministry woman, that one. If the Ministry sent Umbridge, it wasn't for a good reason. Hermione's gaze shifted to the hulking form of her beast, to the long, semi-there tail. Then she recalled the pain as it manifested itself through her body and a cold tremor swept along her spine.

The beast stopped and looked over its shoulder, their gazes meeting. Hermione paused, body still and heart skipping a beat. A sense of dread curled through her as it turned fully, talking towards her with a narrowed gaze. Once in front of her, it lowered its muzzle until the large, cold nose brushed her cheek. A warm breath stirred her hair, sending it whirling around her.

 _'You will be better, after we feed,'_ the beast said, nuzzling the side of her neck. Would it harm her, when they were bound together? Hurt the people she loved? Would it consume her until nothing was left, nothing but it and its hunger? It laughed and then said, _'Hunger makes you doubt-filled. Scared-washed. Turn the mind-words away, Mion. Let us run.'_

And again with odd speech patterns. Hermione scowled. The damn thing had access to her mind.

Couldn't it learn to talk _properly?_ Its rumbling laughter was answer-enough.

When it bounded away, leaping high into the air, Hermione felt the rush. Felt the wind, the power in their forelimbs as the Creature landed, front-paws first, on the hard ground. Then she was running with it, long hair coiling behind her as she chased after it, the darkness of the nighttime sky breaking apart with a thousand, uncounted stars. In the light of the moon, Hermione ran.

For the first time, in a long time…

Hermione's mind was free of thought, her body alive and present in the moment. When the beast hunted, she sensed its prey. Smelled the thick fur and the musk, saw light shining on a crown of bone resting upon a regal skull. Felt the wind rushing, fragile flesh breaking underneath sharp teeth.

When she caught up, it was in a clearing. It was hunched over a large stag, blood pooling under the majestic creature's body. Her gums burned, then. Skin ruptured, blood pooling over her teeth and gliding down her throat. The beast lifted its head, gaze aflame.

 _'Come, Mion,'_ he beckoned her forward. _'Come and feast. Take your fill. Then we hunt again.'_

Hermione paused over the dead creature, stomach curling into itself as it groaned. Saliva wetted her mouth as she sank to her knees, her hands finding a clean patch of fur to rest against. The buck was still warm, dark eyes unseeing. A large, white tail curled around her back.

The beast nudged the side of her face with a bloody maw. _'Feed.'_

There was a gash, to the left. Torn fur revealed dark, red meat surrounded by white. Hermione wasn't sure what the white was. Fat, maybe? Blood oozed from under the torn fur, the scent thick and rich and alluring. When the beast beckoned her to feed once again, Hermione shifted her weight. She leaned over the deer, let her fingers curl in the fur to steady herself.

Then she lowered her mouth, pressed her mouth to the wound, and sank into it.


	9. Chapter 9

**When Faith and Fear Collide**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

* * *

There was something _seriously_ wrong with her.

Hermione couldn't ignore this fact. She had eaten raw meat. _All night._ Her beast had pushed her into a night-long hunting frenzy. It would kill, she would eat. Now, standing waist-high in a river deep in the Forbidden Forest, clothing stained red and skin slick with water and blood, mind coming down from the frenzy, she realized something was very, _very_ wrong.

Her beast, he was curled up on the shore. Half-there. She could see through him. He was like a demonic ghost, his long tail lightly swaying over the grass as his paws dipped into the water. Then his eyes opened, burning orange-red orbs locking onto her as he lifted his head off the ground.

 _'You are discontent,'_ he was hefting himself off the ground, stalking across the earth soundlessly.

Hermione swallowed, her gaze dropping to her bloodied body. "That's _one_ way to put it."

A large, elongated muzzle nudged the side of her face. _'We are full. The hunger is gone.'_

Her hands curled into the front of her shirt, her mind whirling to her _behavior_ back in Hogwarts and how she had run from her professors. Her shoulders curled inward, chin tucking towards her chest, as she stared, horrified, into the water. Gryffindor was going to lose so many points, because of what she had done. She had disobeyed a direct order _from a teacher_.

 _'Why are you distressed?'_ the beast curled around her, rumbling. _'You are better than the worms.'_

"Worms? _Worms?"_ Hermione's gaze snapped up, eyebrow twitching. "They're not _worms."_

 _'They are,'_ the beast nudged her chin, long tongue curling over the front of her throat. The motion had her head tilting backward, her heart leaping as it rumbled. Then the beast was saying, _'They are weak. They are lesser. Inferior. We are more than they are. Stronger. Apex hunters.'_

She stared up at the sky, frowning. "Just because we're… _stronger,_ that doesn't make them _less."_

 _'Doesn't it?'_ The beast circled her, laughing.

Hermione wanted to block out its words, but there was no turning away from it when its voice echoed within the deepest recesses of her mind. Curling around her in a twisted version of an embrace, the beast asked, _'What defines a hunter from its prey? Nobility from peasants? A god from mortals? An alien from the mundane? You know we are better. Stronger.'_

It was missing the point, though Hermione opted to keep her mouth closed. She sank into the water, let it pull at her clothing. She watched, numb, as the water turned pink. As she started scrubbing her skin free from the substance, she couldn't help but notice how her skin looked _lighter_ than it had, back before school had started.

"What do I call you?" Hermione washed blood from her mouth and neck, pausing when silence wrapped around them. She twisted, looking up at the creature. It was staring down at her, confusion wafting off it. She reached out, placing one hand against its side, feeling the slick, yet rough, skin rise and fall with every breath it took. Holding its gaze, Hermione said, "I can't keep referring to you as 'beast' or as an 'it.' You're…male. Humans have names so we can know who we are talking to. When we use names, people know we are talking to them. You know mine. What is yours?"

Its tail swept through the water, curling around them. _'I…have no name.'_

There was something despondent about its response, something fragile and uncertain. In that one moment, Hermione was reminded of a child who was still learning how the world worked. Her mind reversed back to the creatures in America that had came after her. She stepped closer.

"What did the others of your kind, the dark-skinned ones, call you?"

 _'They did not call me anything,'_ the beast responded, a low rumble. It lowered its head so they were face-to-face, gazes clashing. _'They stayed clear. They did not approach, not unless they wished to try and overwhelm me. To consume. They did not speak, not like you. Like I do, now.'_

Morning was coming. Hermione felt it, her suspicion confirmed when her gaze shifted to a sky that had hints of dark blue and pink on the edges. Dawn was upon them. She turned back to the beast, exhausted but alert. Awake, just…heavy. She wasn't tired, not in a physical sense. Her body was humming, her stomach full and sated. Her diet, it seemed, had changed due to their… _union._

Hermione nodded to herself. "Then I will find a name for you, but there _must_ be boundaries."

The beast snarled, looming over her. Hermione pressed her hands to its chest as she continued, voice hard and unyielding, "We will hunt. I may not like it, but if it means the students are safe…"

If it meant Hogwarts and all within its halls were safe, she would hunt at night. She would consume the kills her unearthly companion hunted. It was quiet, as she drew her thoughts together. "I have things I _have_ to do. School. My studies. Maintaining the relationships, the _friendships,_ I have developed over the last several years. _Not_ alerting my professors about… _this._ "

 _'They are lesser, beneath us,'_ the beast hissed.

Hermione's gaze snapped upward, clashing angrily with its hellish eyes. "They are _not_ beneath me. Having companions _isn't_ about status, about _rank_."

She turned, making for the shore as she continued, "Friends and companions is for comfort. It's about having people to rely on, people to help us and support us. And there's Harry…"

 _'The green-eyed boy with the two souls,'_ the beast followed after her, the two of them entering the woods as Hermione processed its words. Then she paused, turning, slowly, to gaze at the creature standing between the trees. Large, impossibly so, surrounded by trees and moss and flowers.

Hermione stared up at it, confused. "What do you mean when you say he has _two_ souls?"

.

Dumbledore paced, hands clasped behind his back. Across from him was Severus and Ari, the rest of the staff soon to be in the room with him. His attention, however, was on the two men before him. Dumbledore's gaze shifted to the medical records on his desk, which he picked up. A frown pulled at his mouth as he read over the results of Miss Granger's time in the hospital.

"She ran?" He asked, once again.

Severus ran a hand down his face. "She was…wound up. After the incident in America, she had spent a week sleeping. Then, when she was with the Weasleys, she couldn't hold anything down."

Dumbledore knew the slight changes to the story was due to the newest professor. One could never be too careful, though the Headmaster knew the young man standing by the Potions Master was keen on more than Severus would guess. Dumbledore wondered what ploy the man had in mind this time around. It was unusual, this turn. Quill hadn't managed to get far.

His attention shifted back to Severus as the man said, "Draco said she had called Pansy a whore."

Dumbledore blinked. "That…doesn't sound like Miss Granger."

"If I may interrupt?" Ari's hands were folded behind his back, eyes hard. Dumbledore hummed, head tilting in acceptance. The newest professor nodded, then continued, "What, exactly, happened when she was in America and how does it play into effect here?"

Dumbledore frowned. "She was attacked by a magical creature. She was found in a forest, bloody and unconscious. Shortly after awakening, her magic went haywire. She was scared. She and her family went and stayed with the Weasleys, as she is friends with Ronald Weasley and his sister."

It wasn't long until her magic started going haywire, either. He could recall her throwing Sirius across a room wandlessly and nonverbally. How she had torn apart the room, blasting furniture into pieces when she had finally come back to the land of the wakeful. How her adoptive parents had soothed her, calmed her down. How she had completely relaxed once she had Harry with her.

Dumbledore's gaze went back to the records in his hand, to the events that had transpired while she was sleeping in the hospital. The way her magic had rose, how several doctors had been fatally injured when they tried to draw her blood. How one… _exploded._ How a handful of nurses went missing, vanishing like they never existed. He understood why Alexander Truman had thought she was manifesting an obscurial. Seeing her progression, a tendril of doubt was now settling.

Ariana had been a sweet child. Dumbledore sometimes saw his sweet, baby sister, and her flaming red hair and blue eyes, in the shadows. Saw her dancing on the beach. Running in the woods. He had seen, in his youth, how her magic would whirl around her, uncontrolled and deadly but so _beautiful,_ and how it would follow her emotions…

How, in a fit of rage, his sister had killed their mother…

Dumbledore looked at the two professors. "Miss Granger is in a fragile state. Perhaps she is too fragile to fully handle school, at this point, but she is here. It is our jobs to care for her. It is our solemn duty to care for all our students, but to be mindful, and vigilant, for those who suffer from injury and illness not quite apparent to the naked eye."

Ariana had been the same. Too fragile for Hogwarts, branded a squib by many. A mystery.

No one realized she had no control over her magic. Only he, Aberforth, and Gellert knew.

If that was the route Miss Granger was going down, if her attack had, somehow, made her _afraid_ of the power she carried in her blood – then they would guide her, help her overcome the trauma. It was their duty. The world did not have a pleasant view of obscurials or anyone who couldn't control their magic after they received an education.

Ari inclined his head. "I shall keep an eye on her, when she is my class. I have had much experience with how trauma changes an individual, how it can shift and change."

"I will provide for her medicines," Severus was loose, body relaxed, but there was a tension to him as addressed the unspoken duties they both knew he would be overseeing. Dumbledore knew Severus had tended to Hermione during the summer, had often spent hours rubbing ointment into her back and stomach. Feed her potions to help calm her stomach. "Do you wish to have a weekly update sent to you and Poppy?"

"That would be wise," Dumbledore knew it would be wise to keep track of her. "I will speak with Minerva about offering counseling for Miss Granger. As her Head of House, our young Lion should be more open sharing problems she is facing."

Once they were dismissed, both professors exited the room. Dumbledore rubbed an aged hand down his face, turning to the open window Fakes had left through earlier. It had been two days, since he had seen the phoenix. Where was his familiar? What had alarmed him to such an extent he had screeched, panicked, until Dumbledore had thrown open the windows for him?

Was Miss Granger in the process of manifesting an obscurial, as Alexander suspected?

Newt would be the best person to address, for this. His grandson, Rolf, was born recently. It would be a good time to send a congratulations to his former-student and wish the newborn a good future in a turbulent world. It would be good to talk to Tina, to go over Credence's upbringing and how he emerged as an obscurial, as well. The thought of talking of that child, and Gellert's part in the boy's death, was an unsettling thought.

However, if he could learn anything that could help Miss Granger, he was more than willing to bring Newt back to Hogwarts. The man could, perhaps, work alongside Hagrid. The two would likely get along, given their shared love of all magical creatures regardless of the dangers. The hard part would be getting the man here with Dolores in the school.

Then there was Ari. Dumbledore pulled out the American teacher's files, frowning.

If anyone thought he didn't do his research, they would be sadly mistaken. Dumbledore sat at his desk, gaze on Ari Delovor's files – and how, clipped to the back, was an obituary stating the man's desk twenty years ago. Murdered by Gellert's followers. Dumbledore frowned.

Quill had turned over several stones to a harsh and uncaring future. Harry was struggling to deal with the issues that came from the Dark Lord's interest in him. If Ari was one of the Dark Lord's men (and the death of Ari Delovor had been well hidden, buried and erased), then Dumbledore knew that whatever reason the man was here for, his intent, was something he needed to look into himself. There were dangers, in this. If the Dark Lord trusted any follower of his to infiltrate the school, then the man was looking for something.

Barty had nearly succeeded in orchestrating Harry's death last year. Quill, housing the Dark Lord's spirit, tried to entice Harry to the Dark Side in the boy's first year. Two different men, both bound to the Dark Lord intimately. Now another follower of his walked the halls, though Dumbledore did not sense any ill intent from the man.

With empathy being his own unique ability, Dumbledore was puzzled. Then there was Hermione Granger, her own emotions whirling and breaking. Fear and pain and anger and frustration. Hunger. She was a melting pot, rapidly filling to the point she would soon overflow.

If there was one thing Dumbledore knew, it was a simple thing.

He'd rather have a Death Eater in the school than deal with a Ministry official.


End file.
